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jPOEMSj 

m' JAMES MONraOMERT. 



Wanderer of Switzerland^ 



AND 



OTHER POEMS, 



James Montqomekt, 



" TJn'^ long ofivinds and waves the sporty 
" CcndemrPd in tvi-etchedness to roam, 
" LIVE !—r-tJwu shaltfind a sJielterlng port, 
'' A qniet honied 



LONDON; 

Fiiblished by VERNOR and HOOD, in the Poultry, and by 
LONGMAN, HURST, REES and ORME, Paternoster Row • 
Printed by J. M0NTG03TERY, at the IRIS OFFICI!; ShefTieia. 

c 



?>> 



}2d 4 



TO THE PUBLIC. 



3Mo new Publication a^wakens ieis curloHty- than s 
Volume of Mifcellaneous Poems by an unknown Au™ 
tkor. Under this difadvantage, (among many dif- 
couragements more which need not be named,) the 
following trifles are offered to the world;— yet if they 
have merit they cannot be entirely overlooked; if 
they have none they will be jufdy negledced. 

The WandePxER of Switzerland, the fiiCc 
snd longefl: effay in this colIecHiion, has a peculiar 
claim on the liberality of criticifm. Whatever its 
i'ate or its character may be, it is neither written in 
ihe fpirit, nor after the manner of any preceding Poet, 
An heroic fabjedt: is celebrated in a lyric meafure, on 
^ dramatic plan. To unite v^'ith the majefty of epic 
fon^jthe fire, rapidity and con3preIfion of the ode, and 



f vi. j 

give to both the grace and variety of earneil impaf- 
{ioned conversation, would be an enlargement of the 
boundaries of Parnaffys. In fuch an adventure, fuc» 
cefs would be immortality ; and failure itfelf, in the 
prefent inflance, is confecrated by the boldnefs of thp 
iirft attem.pt. Under thefe circumftances, the Wan- 
PERER OF Switzerland will be hofpltably received 
by every lover cf the Mufes : and though the Poet 
may have been as unfortunate as his Hero, the infir*- 
mities of both will be forgiven for the courage v/hich 
each has difplayed. The Hiftcricai fadis alluded tQ 
in this narrative may be found in the SjiplcfTisrd it 
Coxes TraiKls^ and in PhrJas H'lfrary cf the HclvctU 
Confederacy, . 

It is proper to obferve, that many of the fmalicr 
J!]eces have already appeared in the Pq-ETIcal Regi;-? 
TER, and other periodical publications: the favour 
^^hich a few of thefe anonymously obtained gave bir:^ 
%0 the preftnt vclun^e, 



CONTENTS. 



THE IVA^DERER OF SP/ITZERLAND .:,,,] $ 

THE GRAVE, ................ 73 

THE LYRE, 81 

REMONSTRANCE TO WINTER, 88 

30NGy. ..,.,,..>..;.,...., 91 

THE FOJVLER, ...♦.,.,.... ^ . , 93 

SONG, ...;....,.«. , 93 

RELIGION, .*.,.»,.... 9T 

^ THE JOY OF GRIEF,'' ...... i ,.. , 100 

THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA^ ,..;.,.. 105 

THE PILLOJV, ......;;.....,; 113 

TO THE MEMORY OF JOSEPH BROWNE, . « . , 123 

THE THUNDER STORM, . . ^ , . ; ^ , . . , 127 

ODE TO THE VOLUNTEERS, . . J , . : . . .' ; 131 

THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK, . . : i , J ; ; ;; ; 137 

HANNAH, ...:,.,;;.. o . i ;;; ; 147 

A FIELD FLOWERf i i i .,;,.: i i' ., ; 151 

THE SNOW-DROP, .? i ;. i ,'...*,.. , 154 

THE OCEAN, ....»;;;......,, 161 

THE COMMON LOT, ,.,..,;..,... 173 



THS 



WANDERER OF SWITZERLAND, 

A Poem. 



IN SIX PARTS. 



THE 



JVJNDERER OF STF1T%ERLAND, 



Part L 



A IVanderer of Swu ZERLAIW and his Family, confjling of 
his V/ifCi his Daughter and her young Children^ emigrating 
from their Country y in co/fequence of its fubjugation by ths 
French y in 1798, arrive at the Cottage of a Shepherd^ 
key and the frontiers ^ ivhere they are hofpitahly entertained* 

Shepherd. W A n D E r. E a ! whither doft thou rpara ? 
Weary Wanderer, old and grey ! 
Wherefore haft thou left thme home. 
In the funfet of thy day V^ 



12 THE WANDERER 

Wanderer, " In the funfet of my day. 
Stranger ! I have lofl my home : 
"Weary, wandering, old and grey. 
Therefore, therefore do I roam.. 

Here mine arms a Wife enfold. 
Fainting in their weak emibrace ; 
There my daughter's charms, behold^ 
Withering in that widcw'd face. 

Thefe her infant^ — C tbeir Sire, 
Worthy of the race of TELL, 
In the battle's ficrceft fire, 
—In his country's battle, — fell i" 

Shep, *^ Switzerland then gave thee binh V' 
r/and. '^ Aye,^— 'twas Switzerland of yore; 
But, degraded fpot of earth I 
Thou art SwiTZEg.tAKD no sn^re. 



OF SWITZERLAND. 13 

G'er thy mountains, funk in blood, 
Are the waves of ruin huii'd ; 
Like the waters of the fiood, 
Rolling round a buried world.^ " 

Bhep. *' Yet will Time the deluge fcop ; 

Then may Switzerland be blefl^t 
On St. Gothard's"^ hoary top^ 
Shall the Ark of Freedom reft." 

Wand. " No!-~In-eparably loft. 

On the day that made us (laves,. 
Freedom's Ark, by tempefts toft, 
Founder'd in the fwallowing waves.'^ 



* Sr. GoTHARD IS the name of the highejl Mountain h% 
the Canton of Uki^ ths birthplace of Svjifs Independence. 



1^ . THE WANDERER. 

Shep. " Welcome, Wanderer as thou art^ 
All my bleffings to partake ; 
Yet thrlce-welcome to my heart, 
For thine injured country's fake. 

On the weftem hills afar. 
Evening lingers with delight, 
While ihe views her favourite ftar. 
Brightening on the brow of night.. 

Here, tho' lowly be my lot, 
Enter freely, freely fliare 
All the comfoits of my cot, 
Humble fheltcr, homely fare. 

Spoufe ! I bring a fuffcring gueft, 
With his fam.ily of grief ; 
Bid the v>'eary pilgrims refl. 
Yield, O yield them f'jreet relief/' ^ 



or SWITZERLAND). 

S^.^s Wife. " I will yield them fweet relief ; 
Weary Pilgrims ! welcome here ; 
Welcome, family of grief ! 
Welcome to my warmeft cheer." 

fFand* ^^ If the prayers of^broken hearts 
Rife acceptable above, 
Pitying Heaven will take our parts ; 
Helping Heaven reward your love.'' 

S/jep. ^^ Hafte, recruit the failing fire. 
High the wanter-faggots raife : 
See the crackling flames afpire^ 
O how cheerfully they blaze ! 

Mourners ! now forget your careSj 
And till fupper-board be crown'd, 
Clofely draw your fire-fide chairs 5 
Form the dear domeftic round," 



16 THE WANDERER 

ff'arJ, " Hofl ! thy fmiling daughters bring? 
Bring thofe rofy lads of thine ; 
Let them mingle in the ring, 
With thefe poor loft babes of mine." 

SJ:eJ>. ** Join the ring, my girls and boys; 
This enchanting circle, this 
Binds the fecial loves and joys; 
^Tis the fair)'-ring of blifs T^ 

Wand. << O ye loves and joys ! that fport 
In the fairy-ring of blifs. 
Oft vuth me ye held your courtj 
I had once anhon-.e like this! 

Bountiful my former lot 
As my native-countiy's rills ; 
The foundations of my cot 
Were her everlafting hills. 



But thofi ftreams no longer pour 
Rich abundance round my lands ; 
And my father's cot no more 
On n3y father's mountain Hand^ 

By an hundred -winters piled, 

When the Glacier:,^ dark with death, 

Hang o'er precipices wild, 

If a puh'e but throb alarm, 
Dafli'd down dreadful in a trice, 
—For a pulie will break the chann,— . 
Headlong rolls the rock of ice : 

* Ivijr: properly the AvALJllC'iES ; Imm^nfe accumuhilcnt 
^J Ice a^d f-ioiv^ balanced on the 'vsrge of the mountains ^ in 
Juch fubtle f. if pence y that in the opinion of the natinfeSf iht 
tread of the traveller may bring them dqivn in defruclion upon 
him. 'The Glaciers are -inore permanent maffes cf ice, ami 
f-fr;7ied rather in the vallles than on thefammiii of the Alps. 



IS THE WANDERER 

Struck with hon'or ftifF and pale. 
When the chaos breaks ^n high, 
All that view it from the vale. 
All that hear it coming, die :— • 

In a day and hour accuril, 
C'er the wretched land of TELL, 
Thus the Gallic ruin burll, 
Thus the Gallic glacier fell 1'* 

She;^. " Hulh that melancholy flrain ; 

Wipe thofe unavailing tears :" 
M^'and. " Nay, — permit me to complain^ 

^Tis the privilege of years; 

'Tis the privilege of woe. 
Thus her anguifh to impart : 
And the tears that freely flow 
Eafe the agonizing heart.'' 



OF S\VITZERLANI>, If 

3hep. ^* Yet fufpend thy griefs awhile : 
See the plenteous table crown'd \ , 
And my wife's endearing fmile 
Beams a rofy welcome round. 

Cheefe from mountain-dairies prefl, 
. Wholefome h^rbs, nutritious rootSj, 
Honey from the wild-bee's nefl, 
Cheering wine, and ripen'd fruits : 

Thefe, with foul-fufcaining bread, 
My paternal fields afford ; 
On fiich fare our fathers fed \ — 
lioarv Pilgrim ! blefs the board.'^ 



l.im OF THE nKST PAKn 



TIM 



irjNDERER OF SfTlTZERUSV. 



Fart II. 



After fvppcr^ ^he JVakdekek, at the dcfrs of hU Iiaf.^ r^ 
lates theforroivs and fujfjr}p.gs of his Country ^ during the 
mvafion and conquejl of it by tkc FrcKih^ in soaneSikm Kvif$ 
b-ls o^xfnfory, 

Shfp, ' vVaxdesli r. ! bo-.v'd -vvith gncfs and ':tzr% 
Wanderer, with the cheek fb pale ! 
O give language to thofe tears ; 
Tell their melancholv tde/^ 

JVcmd* " Stranger-irlciid • the tears th^t Bow 
J3own the channels of this cheek, 
TcU a myHtry of woe, 
WJilch.iK) hiirnon tansriie csia fpcik. 



THE ^^ANDEPvHR; ^:^. '21 

Not the pangs of ^* Hope defcrr'd" 
My tormented bofom tear : 
—On that tomb of Hope'interr'd 
Scowls the fpeclre of Defpclr. 

. — Where the Alpine fiinimits rScy 
Height o'er height flnpendous hurfd; 
Like the pillars of the fkies, 
Like the ramparts of the world : 

Bom in Freedom's eagle nz^y 
Rock'd by v/liirlwinds in their rage> 
Nurfed at Freedom's ftormy brea^ 
Lived my Sires from age to aje. 

High o'er Under'^alden's vale^ 
Where the foreft fronts the morn ; 
Whence the boundlefs eye might fill 
O'er a fea of mountains borne : ^ 



f2 THE WANDERER 

There my little native cot 
Peep'd upon my father's farm : 
— O it vras a happy fpot, 
Rich in every rural charm ! 

-There my life> a Ulent ilream, 
Gild along, yet feem'd at reft; . 
Lovely as an infant's dream 
On the waking mother s breaft. 

Till the floi-m that wrecked the worlds' ,, 

In its honible career, 

Into hopelefs ruin hurl'd 

All this aching heail held dear*. 

On the princely towers of Berns 
Fell the Gallic thunder-flroke; . 
To the lake of poor Lucerne^ ^ 
^- -1 fubmitted to the yoke=. 



OF SWITZERLAND, 25 

Reding then his flandard raifed, 
Drew his fword on Brunnen's plain •* 
But in vain his banner blazed, 
Reding drew his fword in vain. 

Where our conquering fathers died; 
Where their awful bones repofe ; 
Thrice the battle's fate he tried, 
Thrice overthrew his country's fees f 



* BrunxZ2T, at the foot cf the tnounfarns, on the borders 
' 9/ the Lake of URJy tuhere thefrji Snvifs Patriots, JValTSx 
-■J^uT.sT of ORiy Werner Stjvffacher of Schwitz, and 
Arnold of Melcrthal in Undervtalden, conferred a- 
gaifif the tyramiy of AUSTRIA^ in 1301 , again in 1798 ^ff* 
'^ame the feat of the Diet of thsfe three far ef Cantons, 

f On the plains of MoRGARTRENy ichere the S^.v'fs 
gained their frf dccifi've viciory ever the force of Aifria^ 
' and thereby fecured the independence of their country, ALLOTS 
Reding J at the head of the troops cf the Utile Cantons, Uhl^ 
ScKJViTZ and UnderwaldeNj repeatedly reptf'fedtbe invading 
mrmy of France. 



THE WANDIR.es. 

Happy then 'svere thofe wl:o fcl'j 
Fiv:htiEg on their fathers' graves ! 
Wretched thofc who lived to tell 
Treachery made the vigors fiaves,* 

Thus my countr;'*s life retired. 
Slowly driven from part to part ; 
U"->DER^=;'AiDEN laft expired, 
Ukdzp.walden was the heart.f 



* 3y the repjlance of theji f-naH Cantons, tjd French Gs- 
tural > HAJVEaIBOVRG ivas coiTibeVud to vjpeci their independ^ 
gnc:, end (raite them a folemn pledge to that purport : but nt 
fooner had they difarwed, on the faith of this engagement, than, 
ihe Enemy came fudJenJy upon them 'with an immenfe force ; 
and ivith threats of extermination compeV.ed them to take the 
§lvlc oath to the fie-zv Ccnfitutlon, impcfd upon all Sr/ITZSR^ 

/ 

f ^le'^.h :hliji:fs of the lotver Valley cf UxdErtfaldeit 
mlcKf rff d ihc French ?r.sjj'2g?.^ ivh'ch required fubmijjion t9 
ihe Nezv Co-fiti/t'on, and the immediate fur render, alive or 
deidj of nim of their Leader s» Wbm tht demand^ aaor^ 



GF S\VIT2:ER.LAKD. 

In the valley of their birth, 
Where our guardian mountains fland ; 
In. the eye of heaven and earth, 
Met the warriors of our land. 

Like their Sires in olden time, 
Arm*d they met in ilern debate; 
^Vhile in every breail fublime 
Glow'dthe Spirit o? the State, 

Gallia's menace fired their blood; 
With one heart and voice they rofe : 
Hand in hand the heroes ilood. 
And defied their faithlefs foes. 



panled by a 7ntnacs of defiru5tlon^ luas read in tie AffemOh 
of the DlJlriSij all the men of the 'valhy^ Jlf^--^ hundred in 
number y took up arms, and devoted thcmfdves to per'tfo in ihi 
ruins of their Country, 



26 THE WANDERED 

Then to heaven, in calm defpair, 
As they turn'd the tearlefs eye, 
By their country's \^Tong3 they fware 
With their countr)''s rights to die. 

Albert from the council came;— 
(My poor daughter was his wife ; 
All the valley loved his name ; 
Albert was my ftafFof life !} 

From the council-field he came ; 
All his noble vifage bum'd ; 
At his look I caught the flame ; 
At his voice my youth retum'd. 

Fire from heaven my heart renew'd ; 
Vigour beat thro' every vein ; 
All the powers, that age had hew'd. 
Started into ftrength again. 



OF SWITZERLAND, 27 

Sudden fiom my couch I fprang, 

) 

Every limb to life reftored ; 
With the bound my cottage rang, 
As I fnatch'd my fathers' fword. 

This the weapon they did wield, 
On Morgap..then's dreadful day ; 
And thro' Sempach's iron field. 
This the ploughfuare of their way.* 

Then, my Spoufe ! in vain thy fears 
Strove my fury to reftrain; 
O my Daughter ! all thy tears, 
All thy children's were in vain. 

* At the battle of SEMPACHy the Auflrians prtftnted ft 
'wi penetrable a front ivith their projtcied fpears^ that the 
Stuifs IV ere repeatedly compelled to retire from the attach^ 
till a native ef UxDERfVALDENy named Arnold DE Win- 
KELRIED, commending his family to his countrymen^ fprang 
upon the enemy, and burying as many of their f pears as he 
(ould grafp in his body, made a breach in their line ; ths 
S-wfs rufcd irij and routed tie Aujrisn^' ivitb a tsrr'ddi 
JlaughUr* 



2g THE WANDERER 

Quickly from our haflening foes,- 
Al Bert's adive care removed. 
Far amidft the' eternal fnows, 
Thefe who loved us,— thefe beloved.^- 

Then our cottage we forfook ; 
Yet as down the fleeps we paL'd, 
Many an agonizing look 
Homeward o'er the hills we caft. 

Now we reached the nether glen^ 
Where in arms our brethren lay ; 
Thrice five hundred fearlefs men,- 
^len of adamant were thcv I - 



* NLany of the Underwalders, on the approach of the 
French army^ removed their families and cattle among the 
higher Alps ; and themfel'ves returned to join their brethren, 
rjjho had encamped in their native Valley , on the borders of 
tkcLakCf and azvaiUd ths attack of the enemy. 



0¥ SWITZERLAND* . 29- 

Nature's bulwarks, built by Time, 
'Gainft Eternity to ftand, 
Mountains; terribly fublime. 
Girt the camp on either hand. 

Dim behind the valley brake 
Into rocks that fled from view;: 
Fair in front the gleaming lake 
Roird its waters bright and blue. . 

'Midd the hamlets of the dale, 
Stantz,* with limple grandeur crown' d^. 
Seem'd the Mother of the vale, 
With her children fcatter'd round. 

'Midft the ruins of the dale, 
Now^fhe bows her hoary head, 
Like the Widow of the vale 
Weeping o'er her children dead, 

* Tl?^ Capital of UlshEKWALDE:^. 



30 ^ THE WANDERER, ScC. 

Happier then had been her fate, 
Ere ihe fell by fuch a foe, 
Had an earthquake funk her flatc, 
Or the lightning laid her low !" 

Sbep, " Rather had the lightning's flafli 
Quick confumed thy country's fot 
Rather had the earthquake's cralh 
Laid her perjured tyrants low! 

Why did Juflice not prevail f'' 
MarJ. " Ah ! it was not thus to be !'' 
Sbcp. — " jMan of grief ! purfae thy tale 

To the death of Liberty." 



SVD OF THE SEC02'D PART. 



THE 



JFAXDERER OF SfFlTZERLAND, 



Part II L 



The JVanderer. continues his narrative ^ and defcrihes tls 
battle and mnjj'^cre of Vnberwaldex. 

JVand, I* ROM the valley we defcried, 

As the GxiULS approach'd our fhores, 
Keels that darken'd all the tide, 
Tempefling the lake with oars. 

Then the mountain-echoes rang 
With the clangor of alarms: 
Shrill the (Ignal-trumpet fang ; 
All cur waniors leap'd to arms* 



THE WANDERER 

On the margin of the flood, 
While the frantic foe drew nigh ; 
Grim as watching Wolves we flood. 
Prompt as Eagles ftretcht to fiv. 

In a deluge upon land 
Buril their overwhelming mJght ; 
Back we huii'd them from the flrand, 
Still returning to the fight. 

Still repulfed, their rage increafcd. 
Till the waves were vrarm with blood ; 
Still repulfed, they never ceafed, 
Till they founder'd in the fiood,"^ 



* T^he French maJx their frjl aftach on the Valley of 
■Underwalden from the Lake ; but after a defperate con* 
'fiiSi they ivere viSiorloufy repelled^ and tivo of their vejjels, 
contiihhig fve hundred men ^ per'fiid In the engagement % 



OF SWITZERLAND. 

For on that triumphant day, 
Underwalden's arms once more 
Broke Opprefiion's black array, 
Dafh'd Invafion from her fhore. 

Gaul's lurviving barks retired, 
Muttering vengeance as they fled ; 
Hope in us, by Vidory fired, 
Raifed our Spirits from the deadr 

From the dead our Spirits rofe. 
To the dead they foon returned ; 
Bright, on its eternal clofe, 

Underwalden's glory burn'd. 

Star of S w I T z E R L A N D ! whofe ray? 
Shed fuch fvveet expiring light. 
Ere the Gallic comet's blaze 
Swept thy beauty into right :-» 



34- THE WANDERED 

Star of S v/ 1 T z E R L A N D ! th y f am e 
No recording Bard hath fang, 
Yet be thine immortal name 
Infpiration to my tongue !^^ 

While the lingering moon deky'd 
In the wildernefs of night, 
Ere the morn awoke the fliade 
Into loveiinefs and light : — 

Gallia's tigers, wild for blood. 
Darted on our fleeping fold ; 
Down the mountains, o'er the floods 
Dark as thunder-clouds they roU'd. 



* In thi lafl and dicijl've battle the Ul^DERWALDERS -ivem 
ever Poivered by tivo' French armies f ivh'ich riijhed u^on them 
from the oppofite ?7Zou?italns and fur rounded their camp^ ivhile 
an ajfaidt at the fame time zvas 77iade vpon them fro?n th& 



OF SWITZERLAND. Sj 

By the trumpet's voice alarmM, 
All the valley burll awake; 
All were in a mcment ann'd 
From the barriers to the lake. 

— In that valley, on that fhore, 
When the graves give up their dead, 
At the trumpet's voice once more 
Shall thofe (lumberers quit their bed ! 

For the glen that gave them birth 

Hides their afhes in its v.-omb : 

G 'tis venerable earth, 

Preedom's cradle. Freedom's tcmb ! — 

With fucii defoiating fliocks, 
Did the Gauls our camp afTail, 
As if Underw ALDEN's rocks 
Had been lun;biing to tbe vale. 



THE WANDERia 

Then on every fide beguii 
That unutterable fight ; 
Never rofe the aftonifli'd fun 
On fo horrible a fight. 

Once an Eagle of the rock, 
('Twas an omen of our fate,) 
Stoop'd, and from my fcatter'd flock 
Bore a lambkin to his mate^ 

While the Parents fed their youngj 
Lo ! a cloud of Vultures lean. 
By voracious famine ftung, 
Wildly-fcrearaing ruih'd between. 

Fiercely fought the eagle-twain, 
Though by multitudes oppreft, 
Till their little ones were flain, 
Till they perifh'd on then: neft. 



OF SWITZERLAND. 

More unequal was the fray, 
Which our band of brethren waged ; 
More infatiate o'er their prey, 
Gaul's remorfelefs vultures raged. 

In innumerable waves, 
Swoln with fury, grim with blood, 
Headlong roll'd the hordes of flaves, 
And ingulph'd us with a flood. 

In the whirlpool of that flood. 
Firm in fortitude divine, 
Like the' eternal rocks, we ftood. 
In the cataradt of the Rhine.* 

Till by tenfold force aflaird, 

In a hurricane of tire, 

When at length our phalanx fail'd, 

Then our courage blazed the higher. 

* At SCHAFFHAVSEN , > ' See Coxe's Travels, 



f)$ THE WANDERER 

Broken into feeble bands. 
Fighting in diiTever'd parts, 
Weak and weaker grew our hands. 
Strong and flronger ftill our hearts* 

Fierce amid the loud alarms, 
Shouting in the foremofl fray, 
Children raiftd their little arms' 
In their country's evil day. 

On their countiy's dying bed, 
Wives and huibands pour'd their breath ; 
Many a Youth and Maiden bled, 
Married at thine altar, Death !* 



'^ In this ni'Jcyahle ccnjlict. ?T2any of the IVomen end 
Children of the UlWERWALBERS fotight hi the ranks, by their 
H-ufhands and Fathers and Friends^ and fell ghrioufly for 
ihelr Coimtry, 



OF SWITZERLAND. 39 

Wildly fcatter'd o'er the plain, 
Bloodier ftill the battle grew : — 
O ye Spirits of the flain ! 
Slain on thofe your prowefs flew: 

Who fliall now your deeds relate ? 
Ye that fell unwept, unknown ; 
Mourning for your country's fate. 
But rejoicing in your own ! 

Virtue, valour, nought avail'd 
W^ith fo mercilefs a foe ; 
When the nerves of heroes failM, 
Cowards then could flrike a blow. 

Cold and keen the' afTaiTin's blade 
Smote the father to the ground. 
Thro' the infant's breaft convey 'd 
To the Mother's heart a wound !^' 
"* An indifcrminaU majfacre folhived ths battle. 



40 THE WANDERER 

Under WALDEN thus expired, 
But at her expiring flame, 
With fraternal feeling fired, 
Lo, a band of Switzers came.* 

From the fteeps beyond the lake, 
Like a Winter's weight of fnow, 
When the huge Lavanges break, 
Devaflating all below ; — f 

Down they ruih'd with headlong mightj 
Swifter than the panting wind; 
All before them fear and flight ! 
Death and filence all behind 1 

* T-rf hundred f elf- devoted heroes from the Canton of 
SwiTZ arrived^ at the clofe of the hatth^ to the aid of their 
Brethren of UlWERiVALDENy — and perifhed to a man, after 
laving fain thrice their number. 

\ The Lavanges are tremendous torrents of melting 
fnoiVi that tumble from the tops of the Alps^ and deluge all 
the Country before them* 



THE WANDERER, ScC^ -ii 

Hov/ the foreil of the foe 
Bow'd before their thunder ftroke$ 1 
When they laid the cedars low ; 
When they overwhelm'd the oaks ! 

Thus they hew'd their dreadful way 5 
Till by numbers forced to yield. 
Terrible in death they lay. 
Like the' Avengers of the Field P^ 



E^^D OF THE -nilRD PAKr, 



THE 



JFANDERER OF SPFITZERLAND. 



Part IF. 



7he ^Vanderer relates the circumjlani^es attending ti^s 
death vf Albert, 



Sbepo ^^ i: LEDGE the memory of the Brave^ 
And the Spirits of the Dead ; 
Pledge the venerable Gravcj 
Valour's confecrated bed. 

Wanderer ! this delicious cup^ 
This infpiring goblet jtake ; 
Drink the beverage, drink it up. 
For thy martyr'd brethren's fake/^ 



THE WANDERER, SCC. 4$ 

IFand. « Hail !— all haiU the Patriot's grave. 
Valour's venerable bed ! 
Hail! the memory of the Brave, 
And the Spirits of the dead i 

Time their triumphs fhall proclaim^ 
And their rich reward be this, 
—Immortality of fame ! 
Immortality of blifs i" 

Sbe^, "On that melancholy plain, 
In that confli(5t of defpair. 
How v^^as noble Albert fiain ? 
How didft thou, old Warrior ! fare 5^^ 

Wand. " In the agony of llrife. 

Where the Keart of battle hltd, 
Where his Country loft her life, 
Glorious Albert bow'd his heaJ* 



44 THE V/Aly^DERER 

When our phalanx broke away. 
And our ftouteft foldiers fell, 
—Where the dark rocks diiiina'd the day, 
Scowling o'er the deepeft dell ; 

There like Lions, old in blood, 
Lions rallying round their den, 
Albert and his wj^niors flood; 
We were few, but we were men! 

Breaft to bread we fought the ground? 
Arm to arm repelFd the foe ; 
Every motion was a v^'oundj 
And a death was every blow. 

Thus the clouds of funfet beau) 
Warmer with expiring light ^ 
Thtis autumnal meteors dream 
Redder thro' the darkening night. 



OF SWITZERLAND. 4S 

Miracles our champions wrought ; 
Who their dying deeds fhali tell ! 
O how glorioufly they fought ! 
How triumphantly they fell I 

One by one gave up the ghoft, 
Slain, not conquer'd, — they died free ! 
Albert ftood, — himfeif an holl ! 
Laft of all the Swifs was He ! 

So when Night, with riling fiiade, 
Climbs the Alps from fteep to Iteep j 
Till in hoary gloom arrayed. 
All the giant-mountains fleep; — 

High in heaven their Monarch* ftands, 
Bright and beauteous from afar, 
Shining into diftant lands> 
Like a new-created ftar. 

* MoNi BlAi^d — which is p much higher than the fur'- 
f!OunJing Alps^ that it eatchss and retains the teams of t^ 



■%6 THE WANDERED 

While I ftruggled thro' the fight, 
Albert was my fword and fhield j 
Till ftrange horror quench' d my fightj 
A.nd I fainted on the field. 

Slow awakening from that trance. 
When my foul return'd to day^, 
Vanifh'd were the fiends of France, 
—But in Albert's blood I lay I 

Slain for me, his deareft breath 
On my lips he did refign ; 
Slain for me? he fnatch'd his death 
From the blow that menaced mine. 



Sun twenty minutes eatlkr and later than thej^^-^and 
crowned ivith eternal Ice, may he feenfrom an immenfe dif. 
fance^ purpling ivith his eajlern lights or crimfoned ivitb his 
fitting glory) while mijl and ohfcurity rejl on the mountains 
kdoiv. 



OF SWITZERLAND. 47 

He had raifed his dying head, 
And was gazing on my face ; 
As I woke,— the fpirit fled. 
But \felt his laft embrace.*' 

Shep, " Man of fufFering ! fuch a tale 

Would wring tears from marble eyes !'* 
Wand. "—Hal my daughter's cheek grows pale! '^ 
W.'s Wife. — " Help, O help ! my daughter dies 1'* 

Wa?id. ^' Calm thy tranfports, O my Wife ! 

Peace ! for thefe fweet orphans' fake 1'* 
W^s /Ti/^.— O my joy ! my hope ! my life ! 

O my child 1 my child ! awake !'* 

Wand. " God ! O God ! wliofe goodnefs gives; 

God ! whofe wifdom takes away j 

Spare my Child!" 
^hep. —-=—«_«.<« She lives! fne lives!'* 
WavM ^« Lives ?— my Daughter 1 didft thou fay I 



4S THE WANDERER 

God Almighty ! on my knees. 

In the duft will I adore 

Thine unfearchable decrees ; 

— She was dead! — ilie lives once more ! 

/r/j Daughter. — "When poor Albert ditdi^ no 
prayer 
Caird him back to hated life : 
O that I had perifh'd there, 
Not his widow, but his wife!" 

Wand. " Dare my Daughter thus repine ? 
Albert ! ai;fwer from above ; 

Tell me, are thefe infants thine, 

Whom their Mother does not love J 

Jfl'j Dti\ '* Does not love !— my Father! hear,' 
Hear me, or my heart will break ; 
Dear is life, but only dear, 
for your fervice and their fake* 



1)? SWIT2ER.LAK0^ 4.J 

Bow'd to Heaver/s myfterious willj 
I am worthy yet of you : 

^Yes! 1 am a Mother flill. 

Though I feci a Widow too ! 

7l\;ind, <*' Mother! Widow! Daughter !— alii 
All kind names in one,^ — my Child I 
On thy faithful neck I fall ; 
\ KiiS me, are we reconciled ?'^^ > 

/TV/ Dtr. '^ Yes! to Albert I appeal 5 
Albert! anfwer from above. 
That my Father's breail may feel 
Ail his Daughter's heart of iove.'^ 

BL^.^J PVifi* — " Faint and way-worn as they b<^ 
With the day's long journey, Sire ! 
Let thy pilgrim family 
How vritji me to refr retire.'^ 



bO THS WANDERER, ScC. 

1Va7id, *^ Yes, the hour invites to fleep; 
Till the morrow we muft part ; 
—Nay, my Daughter! do not weep. 
Do not weep, and break my heart* 

Sorrow-foothing, fweet repofe 
On your peaceful pillows light y 
Angel-hands your eyelids clofe ; 
fiM God blefs you all ! — good nigbti 



I 



ss-D oj rnz fourth part* 



THE 



irjNDERER OF SJVITZERLAND. 



Part V. 



^The JVandbrer oeing left alone iv'ith the Shepherd^ re- 
lates his adventures aft ir the battU of Underu'ALDEn. 



S/jejj, W HEN the good man yields his breath;. 
For the good man never dies, 
Bright beyond the gulph of deaths 
Lo ! the Land of Fromife lies* 

Peace to Alsert'^s awful fhade. 
In that land v/here forrows ceafe 1 
And to Albert's afnes, laid 
Ln tlT;e eailVs cold bcfom, Peace T* *' 



/r^;'^. <' On the fatal f^dd I lay 

Till the hour, when twilight pale^ 
Like the ghofc cf dying day, 
Wander'd down the darkening valca 

Then in agony I rofe, 
And with horror lookM around. 
Where embracing, ftiends and foe?, 
Dead and dying, firew'd the ground* 

Many a widow fix'd her eye, 
Weeping, where her hiifoand hhd^ 
Heedlefs, though her babe was by 
Prattling to bis father deade 

Many a Mother, in delpair, 
TuiT.ing up the ghaftly (lain, 
Sought her fon, her hero there, 
--Whom the long'd to icek in vain !: 



OF SWITZERLAND. £§ 

Dark the evening fhadows roll'd 
On the eye that gleam'd in death ^ 
And the evening-dews fell cold 
On the lip that gafp'd for breath. 

As I gazed, an ancient Dame, 
*— She was childkfs by her lock --ssv 
With reSrefhing cordials came \ 
Of her bounty I partook. 

Then, with defperation hdiG, 
Albert's precious cor^^fe I bcic 
On theie fhouiders weak and old^ 
Bow'd w^ith mifer/ before. 

Albert^s Angel gave me ftrength^ 
As I itagger'd down the glen ; 
And I hid my charge at length . 
In its wildcftj deepeH dtn. 



u 



THE WANDEREK 

Then returning through the Ihade 
To the battle-fcene, I fought 
^Morigil the (lain, an axe and fpade ; 
— rWith fuch weapon sFreemen fought « 

Scythes for fwords cur youth did wield 
ht that execrable llrife : 
Ploughilmrcs, in that horrid field, 
Bled vvith Tiaughter, breathed with-^ife ! 

In a dark and lonely cave, 
While the glimmering moon arofe;^' 
Thus I dug my Albert's grave ; 
. — There his hallov/'d limbs repofe-o- 

T€ars then, tears too long repreii:^ 
Guih'd ;^they fell like healing bal^^ 
Till the whirlwind in my breafl 
Died into 5,dreaiy calm^ . 



OF SWITZERLAND, ^^4 

On the frefli earth's humid bed. 
Where my Martyr lay enfhrinedj, 
This forlorn, unhappy head, 
Crazed with anguilh, I reclined. . 

But Avhile o'er my weary eyes, 
Soothing fi umber feem'd to creep, 
Forth I fprang, with llrange furprize^i 
from the clafping^ arms of fieep. 

For the bones of Al b ert dead 
Heaved the turf with horrid throe3» 
And his grave, beneath my head, 
Biirft afunder ; Albert rofe. 

" Ha! my Son !.— my Son !'* — I cried 5 ' 
^* Wherefore had thou left thy grave V' 
r-" Fly, my Father T'— • he replied; 
*' Save my wife^-^my children fave I'' — 



5& 



THE WANDERi;^ 

In the paffing of a breathy 
This tremendous fcene was o'er ^ 
Darknefs fivat the gates of Deathj 
Siknce feal'd them as before, 

Qjie pale moment flx'd I flood 
In aflonifhment fevere : 
Horror petrified my blood, 
I was withered up with fear. 

Then a fudden trembling came 
vC'er my limbs ; I felt on fire, 
Burnings quivering, like a Rame 
In the inilant to expire.'* 

^ke^o ** Rather like the mountain-oak, 
Tempefl-fhaken, rooted fail, 
Grafping fh-ength frdm every flroke> 
While it wrcftks with the blaft." 



Wand» " Aye ! — my heart, unwont to yields 
Qmckly quelFd the (Irange affrighti 
And undaunted o^er the field, 
I began my bnely flight,. % 

Loud the gufcy night-v/Ind blew ^ 
^ Many an awful paufe between^ 
Fits of light and darknefs flew, 
Vv'ild and faddcrt^ o'er the fcene*. 

?or the moon's refplcndent eye 
Gleams of tranHent gloi7 flied \ 
And the clouds athwail the iky^ 
Like a routed army fled,* 

Sounds and" voices fllPd the vale'jjj 
Heard alternate) loud and low ; 
Shouts of victory uvell'd the galcy 
But the breezes mumiur'd woe.* 



^'S" THE WASDERFK. 

As I climb'd the mountain's sidcj^ 
Where the lake and valley meet. 
All my country's power and prida 
Lay in ruhis at my feet- 

Oii that grim and ghaflly plain, 

IJNDERV/.iLDEN's heail-ftriDgs broke^ 
When Ihe faw her heroes flalii. 
And her rocks receive the yoke* 

On that plain, in childhood's hoursj 
From their Mothers' arms set fre-. 
Oft ^hoie heroes gather d fiowera^ 
Often chaced the wandering bee* 

On that plain, in rofy youth. 
They had fed their fathers' flocks, 
Told their love, and pledged their truth^ 
Jn the- iliadow of thofe rocks. 



0^ SWlTZERLANjI). $P 

There with fhepherd's pipe aftd ^n^^ 
In the merry-minghng dance. 
Once they led their brides along. 
Now ! Perdition seize thee, France T' 

S&ejf. " Heard not Heaven the' acciifing cries 
' Of the blood that fmoked around. 
While the life-warm facrifice 
Palpitated on the ground?'* 

Wand, ^^ Wrath in filence heaps his floi"^ ^ 

To confound the guilty foe ; 
But the thunder will not roar. 
Till the flaih has flruck the blow." __ 

Vengeance, Vengeance will not ixij i 
It Ihall buril on Gallia's head^ 
Sudden as the judgment-day 
To Uie unexpecling dead. 



<n^ f H£ WAKDERE*. 

From the Revolution's Bood^ 
Shall a fiery- Dragon fuart ; 
He ihall drink his Mother's bloo^ 
He fliall eat his Father's heart;— 

iNiuril by Anarchy and Crime, 

MCf but difiance mocks my fight : 

— O thou great avenger, TIME i 
Bring thy ftrangeft Birth to light*'* 

^ ^/jfj?* ^^ Prophet 1 thou haft fpoken well^ 
And I deem thy words divine : 
Inow the mournful fequel tell 
Of thy countiy's woes and thine.'* 

*Wa72d. *' Though the moon's bewIIderM barlk^ 
By the midnight tempeil: toft, 
In a fea of vapours dark, 
Di a gulph of clonds viu lofl: •,— 



®F SWITZER.LAK©. ^^^ 

Yet my journey I purfued. 
Climbing many a weary lleep, 
Whence the doling fcene I view'd 
With an eye, that would not weep. 

Stantz, — a melancholy p}Te 1 
And her hamlets blazed behind, 
With ten thoufand tongues of fire^ 
Writhing, raging in the wind.^ 

"Flaming piles, where'er I tum'dj 
Caft a grim and dreadful light ; 
Like funereal lamps they bum'd 
In tlie fepulchre of night :— 

^^^ Tie ijwn of Stantz^ and tie fumunding flllaga^ 
nvere burnt by the French, on'the ntghi after the battle e^ 
l/^DERivALbEN, and ths beautiful *^cMc;q w<7^ cenvirUi i^fo 
tn *ixlldernefst 



THE WANDEREf^^ 

While the red illumined flood. 
With a hoarfe and hollovv' roar^ 
Scem'd a lake of living blood, 
Wildly welteiing on the {here. 

'ivlldft the mountains, far away, •* 
Soon I fpied the facred fpot, 
W^hence a Oow-con fuming ray 
Glimmer d from my native cot. 

At the light my brain was fired. 
And afi*e(h m.y heart's wounds bled : 

Still I gazed ; tlie fpark expired, 

Kature feem'd extind! — I fled: — 

Fled, and ere the noon of day, 
Reached the lonely Goatherd's neil, 
Wliere my wife, my children lay : 
— Hufband !— Father ! think the reft/' 

£yD OP rUE FIFTH PJKT» 



THE 

\ 

irJNDERER OF SIVITZERLAND, 



Part FL 



'^HE Wanderer informs The Shepherd, thci, after iht 
example of many of bis Countrymen fying from the fyran^ 
tiy of France y it is his intention tofttls in fame remote 
I^rovinse of America^ 



ji.^.^. Wanderer!- whither wouldfl tho\\ 
roam ? 
To what region fer away^, 
Bend thy fieps to find an home^ 
In the t\^Iiight of thy day ?'* 

ifand. " In- the twilight of my day^ 
I am haftemng to the weft ; 
There my weary Ihnbs to lay. 
Where the fun retires to re^^ 



€% THE WANDERER 

Far beyond the' Atlantic floods, 
Stretch'd beneath the evenhrg fky, 
Realms of mountains, dark with WQoiS;^ 
InCoLUMBiA's bofom lie*. 

There in gltns and caverns rude^. 
Silent fince the world began^. 
Dwells the Virgin Solitude, 
Unbetray'd by faithlefs man^ 

Where a tyrant never trod, 
\^Tiere a Have was never known. 
But v*^here Nature worlnips Gcai- 
In the v/ildeiTiefs alone : — ^ 

Thither^ thither would I roam 5 - 
There my children may be free j ^ 
— I for them will find an home^ 
They fhail Had a grave for me.. 



OF SWITZERLAKIIJ, p$ 

Though my fathers' bones' afar 
la their native land repofe, 
Yet beneath the twilight ftar 
Soft on mine the turf fhall clofc. 

Though the mould that wraps my clayj 
When this Horm of life is o'er^ 
Never, — never, — never lay 
On a human breaH before : — . 

Yet in fweet communion there. 
When ihe follows to the dead. 
Shall my bofom's partner fnars 
Her poor hufband's lowly bed* 

Albert's babes fhall deck ourtombj 
And my daughter's duteous tears 
Bid the flowery hillock bloom. 
Thro' the winter-wafte of years. 



0«2 THE WANDERER. 

Sbep. ** Time ! thy chariot-wheels delays 
Death! unHrlng thy bended bow ; 
Sun 1 forget to bring the day, 
"Which fliall lay the Wanderer low !*^ 

Jr^d* " Though our Parent perilh'd here> 
Like the Phcsnix on her neil, 
Lol new-Redged her wings appear, 
Hovering in the golden weft* 

Thither fhall her fons repair, 
And beyond the roaring main. 
Find their native country there, 
riiid their Switzerland again. 

Mountains ! can ye chain the will ? 
Ocean ! canil thou quench the heart? 
No ! — ^I feel my Country ftill, 
LIBERTY! where'er ihou art. 



OF SWITZERLAKB. ^Y 

Thus it was in hoar)- timcj 
When our fathers fallied forth^ 
Full of confidence fublime, 
From the famine-wafled North * 

« Freedom in a land of rocks, 

" Wild as Scandinavia, give, 

" Power Eternal ! — where our flccl^Sj. 

" And otjr little ones may live I'* 



* T^Jc-re :s a iradition .i-vctn the Sii'iss, that they are ^V- 
f candid ft cm ths ancierd Scandina'vians ; among ivhcmy i/? a 
reviote a^e^ there arofe fo grievous a famine^ that it 'was de^ 
ter?nined in the AJfemhly of the Nation^ that e-iery tenth mart 
and his family fhotild (pdit their country^ and faek a miv pf- 
fcjjisn. Six thoufand^ chof n by lot ^ thus emigrated at one i 
from tie North, They prayed to ■ GoD to conduB them to a 
land like their civn, ivhere they might dtv ell in freedom and 
nuicty finding fad for their families and pajlure for their cat' 
t-e. GoD^ fays the tradition, led them to a Valley among the 
AlpSf luhere they cleared aivay the forefls^ built the toivn cf 
Smrz, and afterivards peobled and cultivated thf Cantons of 
Uri and UNl:>ERjrJ^,D£y* 



^"•^ THE WAKDERER 

Thus they pray'd ; a fecret band 

Led them, by a path unknown, 
To that dear delightful land. 
Which I yet muft call my own. 

To the Vale of S witz they came : 
Soon their meliorating toil 
Gave the forefts to the flame. 
And their aihes to the foil. 

Thence their ardent labours fpread. 
Till above the mountain-fliows 
Towering Beauty fhew'd her headji 
And a new creation rgfe I 

i — So, in regions wild and wide^ 
We will pierce the favage woodSj 
Clothe the rocks in puiple pride> 
Plough the valUes; tame the floods. 



OF SWITZERLAND. €§ 

' Till a beauteous inland-ifle. 
By a foreil-fea embraced, 
Shall make Dcfolation fmilc • 
In the depth of his own wafte. 

There, unenvied and unknown, 
We ihall dwell fecure and free. 
In a country all our own, 
In a land of Liberty !'^ 

SLep, * • Yet the woods, the rocks, the ftreamg, 
Unbeloved, fhall bring to mind, 
' — Warm with Evening's purple beams, 
Dearer objeds left behind t 

And thy native country's fong^, 
Caroll'd in a foreign clime, 
When new echoes fhall prolong, 
—Simple; tender and fublime i*^ 



7^ THE WANDERER 

How \N'iil thy poor cheek turn pale 1 
And before thy banuTi'd eyes, 
Undfrvv^alden*s charmhig vale, 
And thine own fweet cottage rife !'^ 

j^Fand. — «' By the glorious ghoft of TELL 1 
ByMoRGARTHEN's awful fray ! 
By the field where Albert fell 
In thy laft and bitter day ! 

Soul of Switzerland! arife: 

^ Ha! the fpell has 'waked the dead 

From her afhes to the fkies, 
Switzerland exalts her head. 

See the Queen of Mountains fland, 
In immortal mail complete, 
With the lightning in her hand, 
And the Alps beneath her feet. 



OF SWITZERLAND. 71 

Hark! hei^ voice : — ** My fons! av>'ake ; 
*' Freedom dawns, behold the day ! 
** From the bed of bondage break, 
« 'Tis your Mother calls,— obey !" 

At the found our fathers' graves. 
On each ancient battle-plain, 
Utter groans, and tofs like waves 
When the wild blaft fvveeps the mala. 

Rife, my Brethren 1 call away 
All the chains that bind you flaves $ 
Rife, — your Mother's voice obey, 
And appeafe your fathers' graves. 

Strike, — the conflidl is begun ; 
Freemen ! Soldiers ! follow me ; 
Shout, the Vidory is won, — 

SWITZERLAKD AND LIBERTY !^' 



7^ THE WANDEREXf 

Shep, ^^ Wanior ! Wanior ! Hay thine arm! 

Sheathe, O fheathe thy frantic fw6rd !'' 
fVand. — « Ah ! I rave !— I faint !— the charm 

flies, and memory is reltored!" 

Yes, to agony reflored 
From the too tranfporting charm : 
Sleep forever, O my i word ! 
Be thou withered; O mine arm I 

Switzerland is but a name I 
■ Yet I feel where'er I roam. 
That my heart is itill the fame ; 
Switzerland is ftili my home 1'^ 



li:m OF THE SIXTH A^ID LAST FJAf^ 



THE GRAVE. 

X HER.E Is a calm for thofe who weep, 
A reft for weary Pilgrims found. 
They foftly he and fweetly fleep. 

Low in the ground. 

The florm that wTecks the winter flcy. 
No mere disturbs their deep repofe. 
Than fummer evening's lateft figh. 

That fliuts the rofc* 

I long to lay this painful head 
And aching heart beneath the foil, 
To fl umber in that dreamlefs bed 
From all my toil* 



7if THE GRATEs 

For Mifeiy ftole me at my birth. 
And cafi me heipleis on the wild; 

I perilh; C my Mother Earth ! 

Take home thy Child! 

On thy dear lap thefe limbs reclined 
Shall gently moulder into thee ; 
Nor leave one wretched trace behind, 
Refembling me. 

Hark !— a ftrange found affirights mine ear • 
My pulfe,— my brain runs wild,^ — I rave : 
— Ah ! who art thou whofe voice I hear? 

«I am THE GRAVE! 

^« The GPs^iVE, that never fpake before, 
Hath found at length a tongue to chide: 
Q liften !— I will fpeak no more : 
Be aiat; Pride ! 



^HE GRATE. 75 

<« Alt thoa a WRETCH, of hope forlorn, 
The vidlim of confumlng care ? 
Is thy diilracled confcience torn 

By fell defpair ? 

*• Do foul mifdeeds of former thnes 
Wring with reniorfe thy guilty breait 
And Ghcfts of unforgiven crimes " * 

Murder thy reft ? 

^* Lafi'd by the furies of the mind, 
From wrrtth and vengeance wouldfc thou flee ? 
Ah ! think not, hope not, Fool ! to find 
A friend in me. 

^' By all the teiTors of the tom.b, 
Beyond the power of tongue to tell ! 
By the dread fecrets of my wonib 1 

By Death and Hell 1 



7& ^HS grate; 

" I charge thee LIVE ! — repent and praf ;, 
In duft thine infamy deplore ; 

There yet is mercy; go thy war. 

And fin no more. 

« Art thou a MOURNER?— Haft thcu linoTrS 
The joy of innocent delights ? 
Endearing days forever flown, 

And tranquil nights i 

«* O LIVE ! and deeply cheriib full 

The fweet remembrance o: the pafi : 
Rely on Heaven's unchanging will 
For peace at laft. 

« Art thou a WANDERER ?— Hail thou km 
O'erwhelming tempefts drovrn thy bark ? 
A ihip-vreck'd Sufferer hafi thou been, 
Misfortux^s's mark? 



THE GRATE. W 

*' Though long of winds and waves the fport^ 
Coridemn'd hi wretchednefs to roam, 
LIVE ! — thou flialt reach a fheltering port>- 
A quiet home. 

« To FRIENDSHIP didft thou trull thj famt^ 
And was thy Friend a deadly foe, 
Who ftole into thy breafl to aim 
A lurer blow ? 

" LIVE ! — and repine not o'er his lof%r 
A lofs unv/oraiy to be told : 
ThQU hafl miflaken fordid drofs ■ 

For Friendfhip's gold 

^ Go feek that treafure, feldom found,'. 
Of power the fierceft griefs to calm. 
And fpothe the bofom's deepeil w'ound- 
With heavenly balnu 



tj "^^^ GRAVE* 

^' In WOMAN haft thou placed thy blifs. 
And did the Fair One feithleis piove I 
Katn Ihc bctray'd thee with a kifs. 

And fbid thy love ? 

«^LIYE !— 'twas a falfe bewildering fire. 
Too Gften Love's inndious dart 
Thrills the fond foul with fu'eet deilre. 
But kills the heart. 

A nobler Same iliail warm thy brealr, 
A brighter Maiden's virtuous charms 1 
Blefl ihalt thou be, fupremely bleit. 
In Beauty's arms. 

^' Whate'er thy lot,— Whoe'er thou be>- 

Confefs thy folly,— kils the rod, 
And in thy chaftening forrows fee 

^ , The hand 0^^ GOD. 



THE GRATE. . ) 

^^ A bruifed reed he will not breaks 
Afilidions all his children feel; 
He wounds them for his mercy's fake. 
He wounds to heal I 

^« Humbled beneath his mighty hand? 
Proflrate his Providence adore : 
^Tis done!— Arife ! HE bids thee Hand, 
To fall no more. 

^^ Now, Traveller in the vale of tears J 
To realms of everlafting light. 
Through Time's dark wildemefs of yearsj 
Purfue thy flight. 

^^ There IS a calm for thofe who wecpj 
A reft for weary Pilgrims found ; 
And while the mouldering alhes fleep, 
tow in the ground 5 



r THE GRATE. 

** The Soul, of origin divine^ 
GOD'S glorious image, freed from clay^ 
In heaven's eternal fphere Hiall fliine, 
A ftar of day ! 

^< The SUN is but a fpark of fire, 
A tranfient meteor in the iky ; 
The SOUL, immoital as its Sire, 

SHALL NEVER DIEJ 



THE LYRE. 



<^ AH ! WHO WOULD L07E THE LYRE !^^ 

G. A, Stevetis, 



W HERE the roving rill meander'd 

Down the green, retiring vale. 

Poor, forlorn ALCiSUS wander'd, 

Pale with thought, ferenely pale : 
Hopelefs forrow, o'er his face 
Breathed a melancholy grace, 
And fix'd on every feature there 
The mournful reiignation of defpair,. . 
I.. 



C'J TUZ LYRE* 

O'er his arm, his lyre negleded, 

Coldly, cai-elefsly he flung ; 
And, in fpirit deep dejeded. 

Thus the penfive Poet fung ; 

While, at midnight's folemn noon^ 

Sweetly ihone the cloudlefs moon^ 

And all the fl.ars, around his head, 

Benignly bright, their mildefl influence flied. 

^•Lyre ! O, Lyre 1 my chofen treafure, 

*' Solace of my bleeding heart ; 
**' Lyre ! O, Lyre ! my only pleafure, 

6i We niuit ever, ever part : 
" 'Tis in vain thy Poet lings, 
'^^ Wooes in vain thine heavenly fcrings, 
" The Mufe's wretched Sons are bcrn 
^^ To cold negle-it; and penury^ and fcom» 



rut LYRF. S% 

^^ That whicli Alexander, (iglrd for, 
'- That which Cesar's foul pofTefbM, 

" That which HcroeSj Kings have died for, 
" Glory ! — animates my bread : 

^' Hark ! the charging trumpets' throats 

^^ Pour their death-defying notes ; 

^« To arms !" they call ; to anus I Hy, 
*^Like Wolfe to conquer — and like Wolfe to die ! 

^' Soft !— the blood of murdered legions 
**' Summons vengeance from the ikies ; 

^^ Flaming townsy and ravaged region s^ 
^' All in awful judgment rife ! 

,^<c o then, innocently brave, 

^' I will w^reftle with the v^^ave ; 

** Lo ! Commerce fpreads the daring fail. 
^* And yokes her naval chariots to the gale» 



m THE LYRE. 

'^ Blow ye breezes ! — gently blowings 
" Waft me to that happy fhore, 

** Where, from fountains ever flo^^nng, 
<* Indian realms their treafures pour j 

'^ Thence returning, poor in health, 

" Rich in honefty and wealth, 

** O'er thee, my dear paternal foil 1 
^^ ril ftrew the golden han^eft of my toil. 

^^ Then fhall Mifery's fons and daughters 
*^ In their lowly dwellings fing ; 

— ^* Bounteous as the Nile's dark waters, 
" Undifcover'd as their fpring, 

^« I will fcatter, o'er the land, 

" Bleflings with a fecret hand ; 

— " For fuch angelic talks defign'd, 
^^ I give the Lyre and fon'ow to the wind." 



THE LYRE, 85 

On an oak, whofe branches hoary 

Sigh'd to every pafiing breeze, 
Sigh'd, and told the limple ftory 

Of the patriarch of trees ; 
High in air his harp he hung, 
Now no more to rapture ftrung ; 
Then warm in hope, no longer pale, 
He blufti'd adieu, and rambled down the dale* 

Lightly touch'd by fairy fingers, 

Hark ! — the Lyre enchants the wind; 

Fond Alc^us liftens, lingers, 

•—Lingering, liftening, looks behind 

Now tlie mufic mounts on high, 

Sweetly fweiling through the fky ; 

To every tone, with tender heat. 
His heart-ftrings vibrate, and his pulfes beat. 



^G THX LYRE. 

No\7 the ftraliis to fil(^nce fleallng. 

Soft in ecflacies expire ; 
Oh ! with what romantic feeling 

Poor ALCiEus grafps the Lyre i 
Lo ! Lis furious hand he Hlngs, 
In a ten^.pefl o'er the firings ; 
He ftrikes the chords fo quick, fo loud, 
^Tis Jove that fcatters lightning from a clorid ! 

*^ Lyre ! Cj Lyre ! my chofen trcafarC;, 

*^ Solace of my bleeding heart ; 
'^ Lyre ! O, Lyre ! m^y only pie afar?, 

— -" W<e will never, never part 1 
*' Glory, Commerce, now in vain, 
'** Tem.pt me to the field, the main ; 
** The Mnfe's Sons are blefl, tho' bom 
*^ To cold.Begled:, and penury, c^nd fcorn* 



THE LYRE, 87 

" What, tlio' all the world negled me, 

" Shall my haughty foul repine ? 
*^ And fliall poverty deje(5l me, 

" While this hallow'd lyre is mine ? 
" Heaven, — ^that o'er my helplefs head, 
•• Many a vvrathfuj vial ihed, 
— " Heaven gave this lyre i — and thus decreedj 
■ Be thou a hrulfsd) but not a broksn reed !'' 



REMONSTRANCE TO WINTER.. 



J\h I why, unfeeling Winter ! why 

Still flags thy torpid wing ? 
Fly, melancholy Seafon, fly. 

And yield the year to Spring. 

Spring, — ^the young cherubim of lovc^ 

An exile in difgrace, — 
Plits o'er the fcene, like Noah's doTC;, 

Nor finds a refting place. 

When on the mountain's azure peak, 

Alights her fairy form, 
Cold blow the winds, — and dark and bleakj , 

Around her rolls the Horm* 



B.EMONSTRAHCE TO WINTER, S9 

If to the valley fhe repair 

For ihelter and defence, 
Thy wrath purfues the mourner there, 

And drives her, weeping, thence. 

She feeks the brook— the faithlefs brook. 

Of her unmindful grown, 
Feels the chill magic of thy look, 

And lingers into flone. 

She wooes her embryo-flowers in vain. 

To rear their infant heads ; 
—Deaf to her voice, her flowers remain 

Enchanted in their beds. 

In vain fhe bids the trees expand 

Their green luxuriant charms ; 
»— Bare in the wiidemefs they Hand, 

And ftret-ch their witheiing arms. 



90 REMONSTRANCE TO IVIKTER, ' 

Her favourite birds, in feeble notes. 

Lament thy long delay ; 
And drain their little ilammering throats^ 

To charm thy blafls away. 

Ah ! Winter, calm thy cruel rage^ 

Releafe the ftruggling year j 
Thy power is paft, decrepid Sage I 

Arife and difappean 

The ftars that graced thy fplendid night 

Are loft in warmer rays ; 
The Sun, rejoicing in his might. 

Unrolls celeftial days. 

Then why, ufurping Winter, why 

Still flags thy frozen wing i 
Fly, unrelenting tyrant, fly— 

And yield the year to Spring \ . 



soNa 



XVOUND Love's Elyfian bowers^ 

The fofteft profpedts rlf^ ; 
There bloom the fweetefi: flowers. 

There fhine the purefl ikies. 
And joy and rapture gild awhile 
The cloudlefs heaven of Beauty's frnile. 

Remind Love's deferted bovrers 

Tremendous rocks arife ; 
Cold mildews blight the flowers, 

Tornadoes rend the fkies, 
And Pleasure's waning moon goes down 
Amid the night of Beauty's frow^n* 



92 SONG* 

Then Youth, thou fond believer 1 

The wily Syren fhun: 
Who trufts the dear Deceiver 

Will furely be undone ! 
When Beauty triumphs, ah ! beware, 
5=^Her finile is hope l-^her frown defpah: ! 



THE FO W L ER. 



A SONG; 



ALTERED FROM A GERMAN AIR, IN THE OPERA 0? 

** DIE Z^AUBERFLOTE,'* SET TO MUSIC BY MOZART. 



A CARELESS, whiflling Lad am I^ 
On fky-lark wings my moments fly ; 
There's not a Fowler more renowned 
In all the world — ^for ten miles round ! 
Ah ! who like me can fpread the net ? 
Or tune the merry flageolet ? 
Then, why, O ! why fliould I repine, 
Since all the roving birds are mine ? 



94' THE FOWLER. 

The thrufh and linnet in the vale^ 
The fvveet fequeller'd nightingale, 
The bullfinch, wren and woodlark, all 
Obey my fummons when I call : 
O ! could I form fome cunning fnare 
To catch the coy, coquetting fair, 
In Cupid's filmy web fo fine, 
The pretty girls Ihould all be mine I 

When all were mine, — among the reft^ 
I'd chufe the Lafs I liked the beft, 
And fhould my charming mate be kindj 
And fmile, and kifs me to my mind,. 
With her I'd tie the nuptial knot, 
Make Hymen's cage of my poor cotj 
And love away this fleeting life, 
Like Robin Redbreaft and his wife ! 



SONG^ 

WRITTEN FOR A CONVIVIAL SOCIEtr, ITHOSE MOTTO h^AS 
" FRIENJbSHIPy LOVE AJ^D TRUTH.'' 



VV HEN "Friendfhip, Love and Truth'^ abound 

Among a band of Brothers, 
The cup of joy goes gayly round, 

Each {hares the blifs of others : 
Sweet rofes grace the thorny way 

Along this vale of forrov7; 
The flowers that fhed their leaves to day. 

Shall bloom again tomorrow : 
How grand in age, how fair in youth, 
Are holy « Friendship, Love and Truth P 

On Halcyon wings our moments pafs, 

Life's cruel cares beguiling ; 
Old Time lays down his fcythe and glafs^ 

In gay good humour fmiling ; 



96 SONG* 

With enninc beard and forelock grev> 

His reverend front adorning, 
He looks like Winter tum'd to May, 

Night foften'd into Morning ! 
How grand in age, how fair in youth, 
Are holy " Friendship, Love and Truth !'' 

From thefe delightful fountains flow 

Ambrofial rills of pleaR:re ; 
Can man defire, can heaven beflow 

A more reiplendent treafure ? 
Adorn'd with gems fo richly bright^ 

We'll form a Conftellation, 
Where every Star, with modeft lights 

Shall gild his proper ftation. 
How grand in age, how fair in youth, 
Are holy *< Friendship, Love and Truth !'^ 



RELIGION. 

£N OCCASIONAL BTMNq 



1 HRo' fnades and folitudes profound. 
The fainting traveller winds his way ; 

Bewildering meteors glare around. 
And tempt his wandering feet aflray : 

Welcome, thrice welcome, to his eye. 
The fudden moon's infpiring lightj> 

When forth fhe failles thro' the fky. 
The guardian Angel of the night i 

Thus mortals blind and weak, below 
Purfae the phantom Blifs, in vain z 

The world's a wildemefs of woe. 
And life a pilgrimage of pain I 





98 BYMR. 

Till mild Religion, from above, 
Defcends, a fweet engaging form. 

The mefTenger of heavenly love, 
The bow of promife in a ftorm ! 

Then gUilty paflions wing their flightj, 
Sorrow, remorfe, afflidion ceafe ; 

Religion's yoke is foft and light, 
And all her paths are paths of peace* 

Ambition, pride, revenge depart. 
And folly flies her chaftening rod ; 

.She makes the humble contrite hearty 
A temple of the living God. 

Beyond the narrow vale of time, 
Where bright celeftial ages roll, 

To fcenes eternal, fcenes fublime. 
She points the way and leads the foul 



I 



At her approach the Grave appears 
The Gate of Paradife reftored ', 

Her voice the watching Cherub hears^ 
And drcps his double-flaming fvvord* 

Baptized with her renewing fire, 
May we the crown of glory gain ; 

Rife when the Hoft of Heaven expire, 
And reign with God, for ever reign. 






^*THE JOY OF GRIEF.'^^ 



Q 

3V/EET the hour of tribulation. 
When the heart can freely ligh $ 

And the tear of refignation 
Twinkles in the mournful eye* 

Have you felt a kind emotion 

Tremble through your troubled breaft ^ 
Soft as evening o'er the ocean. 

When Vat charms the vravcs to reft : 

Have you loll a friend, a brother ? 

Heard a father's parting breath ? 
Gazed upon a lifelefs mother, 

Till file feem'd to wake from death ? 



THE JOY OF GRIEF« 101 

Have you felt a fpoufe expiring 

In your arms, before your view ? 
WatchM the lovely foul retiring 

Prom her eyes, that broke on you ? 

Did not grief then grow romantic^ 

Raving on remembered blifs ? 
Did you not, with fervour frantic^ 

Kifs the lips that felt no kifs i 

Yes ! but, when you had refignM her^ 

Life and you were reconciled ; 
Anna left — fhe left behind her. 

One, one dear, one only child. 

But before the gi*een mofs peeping^ 

His poor mother's grave array'd^ 
In that grave, the infant fleeping 

On the mother's lap was laid. 



^2 THE JCT OF GRtEF, 

Horror then, your heart congealing, 
Chill'd you with intenfe defpairj 
Can you recoHecft the feeling ? 

No ! there was no feeling there ! 

From that gloomy trance of forrow. 
When you woke to pangs unknown^ 

How unwelcome was the morrow. 
For it rofe on you alone I 

Sunk in ielf-confuming anguifh. 
Can the poor heart always ache ? 

No, the "tortured nerve will languifh, 
Or the firings of life mull break* 

C^er the yielding brow of fadnefs, 
One faint Imile of comfort flole ; - 

One foft pang of tender gladnefs 
Exquifitely thriU'd.your fouL 



THE J€Y OF GRIEF. 103 

While the wounds of woe are healing, 

While the heart is all refign'd, 
^Tis the folemn feaft of feeling, 

'Tis the fabbath of the mind* 

Penlive memory then retraces 

Scenes of blifs for ever fled, 
Lives in former times and places. 

Holds communion with the dead. 

And, Vv^hen night's prophetic flumbers 

Rend the veil to mortal eyes, 
From their tombs, the fainted numbers 

Of our loll companions rife. 

You have feen a friend, a brother, 

Heard a dear dead father fpcafc ; 
Proved the fondnefs of a mother, 

Felt her tears upon your cheek ! 



I04f THE JOY OF dRIEF. 

Dreams of love your grief beguiling. 
You have clafp'd a confort's charms, 

And received your infant finiling 
From his mother's facred arms^ 

Trembling, pale, and agonizing. 
While you moum'd the vifion gone; 

Bright the morning ftar arifiiig 

Open'd heaven, from whence it fiione^ 

Thither all your wiihes bending 

Rofe in extacy fublime. 
Thither all your hopes afcending 

Triumphed over death and time* 

Thus affiidled, bruifed and broken. 
Have you known fuch fweet relief ? 

Yes, my friend ! and, by this token. 
You have felt " the jov of grief,'^ 



rut ■ 
feATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA. 



ijt* At Thebes, in ancient Egypt, was erecfted a /la- 
tue of ''lemnon, with an harp in his hand, which 
is faid to have hailed with delightful mufic the 
riling fun, and in melancholy tones to have mourn- 
ed his departure. The introducSlion of this cele- 
brated Lyre, en a modern occaiion, will be cenfured 
as an Anachronifm by thofe only, who think that 
its chords have been touched unikilfully. 



xlAap of Memnon ! fweetly ftrung 
To the mufic of the fpheres ; 

While the Hero's dirge is fung. 
Breathe enchantment to our ears. 

Aa the fun*s defcending beams. 
Glancing o'er thy feeling wire, 

Kindle every chord, that gleams 
JLike a ray of heavenly fire ^ 



106 THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA* 

Let thy numbers, foft and flow, 
O'er the plain with carnage fpread> 

Soothe the dying, while they flow 
To the memory of the dead. 

Bright as Venus, newly born, 
Bluftiing at her maiden charms | 

Frefli from ocean rofe the Mom, 
When the trumpet blew to arms. 

O that Time had ilay'd his flight. 
Ere that Morning left the main ; 

Fatal as the Egyptian night. 
When the eldefl born were fiain ! 

Lafh'd to madnefs by the wind, 
As the Red-fea-furges roar, 

Leave a gloomy gulph behind, 
And devour the flirinking fticre; 



^HE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA, 107 

Thus, with overwhehning pride, 
Gallia's brighteft, boldeft boafrj 

In a deep and dreadful tide, 
Roird upon the Br^iTiSH hofr. 

Dauntlefs thefe then* flation held, 
Though, with unextinguifh'd ire, 

Gallia's legions, thrice repell'd, 

Thrice return' d through blood and fire. 

Thus, above the Honns of time, 

Towering to the facred fpheres,- 
Stand iht Pyramids fublime, 

— Rjocks amid the Eood of years 1 

Now the Veteran Chief drew nigh j 

Concuefc cow^ering on his creil, 
Valour beaming fi-om his eye, 

Pity bicedhg in his breaft. 



lOS THE BATTLE OF ALEXAr.DRU. 

BS.ITAIN faw him thus advance^ 
In her Guardian-Angel's fonii ; 

But he lower'd on hofxile France^ 
Like the Daemon of the Storm. 

On the whirlv»'ind of the war, 
High he rode in vengeance dire ^ 

To his friends a leading ftar^ 
To his foes confuming fire. 

Then the mighty pour'd their breathy 
Slaughter feailed on the brave 5 

'Twas the Carnival of Death! 
^Twas the Vintage of the Grave 1 

Charged with Abercrom^ib's doom^ 
Lightning wing'd a cruel ball : 

^Twas the Herald of the Tomb, 
And the Hero fdt the call» 



XHE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA, 109 

Felt — and raifed his arm on high, 

Vidlory well the lignal knew, 
Darted from his awful eye. 

And the fowe of France overthrew,. 

But the horrors of that fight, 

Were the weeping Muse to tell^ 

O 'twould cleave the womb of nighty 
And awake the dead that fell I 

Gafh'd \^dth honourable fears, 

Low in Glory's lap they lie : 
Though they fell, they fell like ftars, 

Streaming fplendour through-the Iky* 

Yet ftiall Memory mourn that day^ 

When with expedation pale, 
Of her foldier far away, 

The poor widow heai*s the talc*. 



I 10 THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA* 

In imagirxation wild, 

.ShQ (hall wander o'er this plain ; 
Rave, — and bid her orphan child 

Seek his fire among the flain.. 

Gently, fi-om the Weilern decpy 
O ye everiing breezes rife I 

O'er the Lyre of Memnon fweep, 
Wake its fpirit with your iighs* 

Harp of Memnom ! fweetly flrung 
To the niufic of the fpheres ; 

While the Hero's dirge is fung. 
Breathe enchantment to our earSt. 

Xet thy numbers foft and flow, 

G'er the plain vrith carnage fpread^ 

Soothe the dying, while they Row 
To the menion' of the dead* 



THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA. 1 1 ^ 

None bu' fblemn, tender tones, 
Tremble tro^a thy plaintive wires ; 

Hark ! — the woiinded Warrior groans ? 
HuHi thy warbling; — he expires. 

Huih ! — while Sorrow v, akes and weeps ; 

O'er his rcllcks cold and pale, 
"INight her (ilent vigil keeps, 

In a mournful moonlight veil. 

Harp of M f m n o n ! frcm afar 

Ere the hrk fa-ute the Iky, 
Watch the rifing of the ftar. 

That proclaims the morning nigh. 

Soon the fun's afcending rays, 

In a flood of hallow'd fire. 
O'er thy kindling chords fhall blazCj 

And thy magic foul infpire. 



112 THE SATTLE OF ALEXANDLIA- 

Then thy tones triumphant pour, 
Let them pierce the Hero's grave i 

life's tumultuous battle o'er, 
O how fweetly fleep the brave ! 

From the duft tlieir laurels bloom, 
High they fhoot, and flourifh free ; 

Glory's temple is the tomb ! 
Death is immortality I 



THE PILLOW. 



1 HE head that oft this Pillow prefs'd, 
That aching head, is gone to reft; 
It's little pleafures now no more. 
And all its mighty forrows o'er, 
For ever, in the worm's dark bed, 
For ever Oeeps that humble head I 

My Friend was young, the world was new \ 
The world was falfe, my Friend was true 5 
Lowly his lot, his birth obfcure, 
His fortune hard, my Friend was poor 5 



1^4 THE PILLOW, 

To wifdom he had no pretence, 
A child of fuffering, not of fenfe ; 
For Nature never did impart 
A weaker head, a warmer heart. 
His fervent foul, a foul offiame, 
Confumed its frail terreftrial frame ; 
That fire from Heaven fo fiercely bum'd. 
That whence it came it focn returnM : 
And yet, O Pillow ! yet to me. 
My gentle Friend furvives in thee, 
In thee, the partner of his bed, 
In thee, the widow of the dead! 

On Helicon's infpiring brink, 
Ere yet MY Friend had leam'd to thinks 
Once as he pafs'd the carelefs day 
Among the whifpering reeds at play. 
The Muse of Sorrow wandered by | 
Her penfive beauty fix'd his eye ; 



THE PILLOV. 11^ 

With fweet aftonifhment he fmiled; 
The Gipfey faw— fhe ftole the child ; 
And foft on her anabroHal breaft 
Sang the deUghted babe to reft, 
Convey'd him to her inmoft grove, 
And loved him with a Mother's love. 
Awakening from his rofy nap, 
And gayly fporting on her lap, 
His w^anton fingers o'er her lyre 
Twinkled like ele(5tric fire ; 
Quick and quicker as they fiew, 
Sweet and fweeter tones they drew; 
Now a bolder hand he flings. 
And dives among the deepeft ftrings ; 
Then forth the mufic brake like thunder; 
Back he ftarted, wild with wonder ! 
The Muse of Sorrow wept for joy, 
And clafp'd and kifs'd her chofen boy. ^ 



J 16 THE PILLO'VV, 

Ah ! then no more his fmiiing hours 
Were fpent in Childhood's Eden-bowers, 
The fall from Infant-irxtiocence, 
The fall to knowledge, drives us thence : 
O knowledge ! worthlefs at the price, 
Bought with the lofs of Paradise 1 
As happy ignorance declined, 
And reafon rofe upon his mind, 
Romantic hopes and fond deSres 
(Sparks of the foul's immoital fires !) 
Kindled Vvithin his breaft the rage 
To breathe thro' every future age, 
To clafp the flitting fhade cf fame,. 
To build an everlafting name, 
O'erleap the narrow vulgar fpan 
And live beyond the life of man 1 

Then Nature's charms his heaii pofiefs'd^ 
And Nature's glory fill'd his breaft: 



THE PILLOW. 117 

The fweet Spring-morning's infant rays, 
Meridian Sumnaer's youthful blaze, 
Maturer Autumn's evening mild, 
And hoary Winter's midnight wild, 
Awoke his eye, infpired his tongue ;; 
For every fcene he loved, he fung. 
Rude were his fongs, and " IiUy footh,'* 
Till Boyhood bloffom'd into Youth : 
Then nobler themes his fancy fired. 
To bolder Rights his foul afpired 5 
And as the New-Moon's opening eye 
Broadens and brightens thro' the Iky, 
From the dim ftreak of weftern light 
To the full orb that rules the night: 
Thus, gathering luflre in its race. 
And Ihining thro' infinite fpace, 
From earth to heaven his Genius foar'd, 
Time and eternity explored, 



118 THE PILLOW, 

And hail'dy where'er its footfteps trod, 
In Nature's temple, Nature's GCI>; 
Or pierced the human breaft to fcan 
The hidden majefty of Man ; 
Man's hidden weaknefs too defcried, 
His glory, grandeur,— meannefs, pride ^ 
Purfued, along their ening courfe, 
The fh'eams of paflion to their fource ; 
Or in the mind^s creation fought 

New ftars of fancy, worlds of thought ! 

^Yet fiill thro' all his ftrains would fiow 

A tone of uncomplaining wcc, 

Kind as the tear in Pity's eye, 

Soft as the numbering Infant's figh. 

So fweetly, exquiiitely wild, 

It fpake the Muse of Sorrow's child. 

O Pillow ! then, when light ^yithdrewf 

To thee the fond Enthufiaft flew j : 



THE PILLO'^. IW 

On thee, in penfive mood reclined. 

He pourM his contemplative mind, 

Till o'er his eyes, with mild controiil, 

Sleep like a foft enchantment ftole, 

Charm'd into life his airy fchemes. 

And realized his waking dreanis. 

Soon from thofe waking dreams he woke, 
The fairy fpell of fancy broke ; 
In vain he breathed a foul of fire 
Thro' every chord that itrung his I^Te, 
No friendly echo cheer 'd his tongue, 
Amidft the wildemefs he fung ; 
Louder and boldei* Bards were crown'd, 
Whofe diflbnance his mufic drown'd : 
The Public ear, the Public voice, 
Defpifed his fong, denied his choice. 
Denied a name,— a life in death. 
Denied— a bubble and a breath. 



120 THE PILLOW. 

Stript of his fondeft, deareft claim, 
And diiinherited of fame, 
To thee, O Pillow ! thee alone, 
He made his lilent anguifh known ; 
His haughty fpirit fcom'd the blow, 
That laid his high ambition low ; 
But ah ! his looks aflumed in vain 
A cold ineffable difdain, 
While deep he cherifh'd in his breaft 
The fcorpion that confumed his reft. 

Yet other fecret griefs had he, 
O Pillow I only told to thee : 
Say, did not hopelefs love intrude 
On his poor bofom's folitude ? 
Perhaps on thy foft lap reclined, 
In dreams the cruel Fair was kind. 
That he might more intenfely know 
The bittemefs of waking woe ? 



THE PILLOW. 121 

Whatever thofe pangs from me conceal'd, 
To thee iv midnight groans reveal'd ; 
They flung remembrance to defpair ; 
*' A wounded Spirit who can bear I'* 
Meanwhile difeafe, with flow decay, 
Moulder'd his feeble frame away ; 
And as his evening fun declined 
The fiiadows deepened o'er his mind. 
What doubts and terrors then poiTefs'd 
The dark dominion of his breaft ! 
How did delirious fancy dwell 
On Madnefs, Suicide, and Hell ! 
There was on earth no Power to fave : 
' — ^But, as he fiiudder'd o'er the grave, 
He faw from realms of light defcend 
The Friend of him who has no Mend, 

R E L I G I o N 1 Her almighty breath 

Rebuked the winds and waves of death j 



122 THE PILLOW. 

She bade the ftonn of frenzy ceafe, 
And fmiled a ealm, and whifper'd peace 5 
Amldft that calm of fweet repofe. 
To Heaven his gentle Spirit rofc. 



VERSES 

TO THS MIMORT OF TEE LATE JOSEPB BlOfTNM^ 
OF LOTHERSDALE, 

0/je of the People called Qjnakersy 

WHO EAD SUFFERED A LONG CONFINEMENT IN THK 

CASTLE OF YORK, AND LOSS OF ALL HIS -WORLDLY 

PROPERTY, FOR CONSCIENCE' SAKI. 



OPiR^T leave thine houfe of clay ; 
Lingering Duft reiign thy breath 1 
Spirit caft thy chains away ; 
Duft be thou diflblved in death i'* 

Thus thy Guardian Angel fpokc, 
As he watchM thy dying bed 5 
As the bonds of life he broke, 
And tte raafom'd Captive fiei 



124' TO THE MEMORY 

« Prifoner, long detain'd below ; 
Prifoner, now with freedom bleft j 
Welcome from a world of woe, 
Welcome to a land of reft !'* 

Thus thy Guardian Angel fang. 
As he bore thy foul on high j 
"While vrith Hallelujahs rang 
All the region of the Iky. 

. — ' — Ye that mourn a Father's lofs, 
Ye that weep a Friend no more ! 
Call to mind the Christian crofs, 
Which your Friend, your Father bore* 

Gnef and penury and pain 

Still attended on his way. 

And Oppreflion's fcourge and chain, 

More unmerciful than they. 



OF JOSEPH BROWNE^ 125 

Yet while travelling in diftrefs, 
('Tvvas the eldeft curfe of fin) 
Thro^ the world's wafte wildernefs. 
He had Paradife within. 

And along that vale of tears. 

Which his humble footfteps trod. 

Still a fhining path appears, 

Where the Mourner walk'd with GOD* 

Till his Master, from above, 
When the promifed hour was come. 
Sent the chariot of his love 
To convey the Wanderer home. 

Saw ye not the wheels of fire, 
And the fteeds that cleft the wind i 
Saw ye not his foul afpire, 
When his mantle drop'd behind ? 



1^5 TO TKE MEMORY OP JOSEPH BROWMI. 

Ye that caught it as it fell, 

Bind that mantle round your brealt 5 ' 

So in you his meeknefs dwell. 

So on you his fpirit reft 1 

Yet, rejoicing in his lot, 

Still fhall memory love to weep 

O'er the venerable fpot. 

Where his dear cold relicks fieep. 

Grave ! the guardian of his dufl:. 
Grave! the treafury of the Ikiest 
Every atom of thy trull 
Refls in hope again to rife* 

Hark ! — ^the judgment-trumpet call«,- 
^ Soul re -build thine houfe of clay : 
Immortality thy walls, 
And Eterxity thy day 1'* 



rHE THUNDER STORM. 



\J FOR Evening's browneft fhade ! 

Where the breezes play by ftealth 
In the foreft-cinflured glade, 

Round the hermitage of Health : 
While the noon-bright mountains blaze 
In the fun's tormenting rays. 

O'er the fick and fultry plains, 
Thro' the dim delirious air, 

Agonizing filence reigns, 
And the wannefs of defpair : 

Nature faints with fervent heat, 

»=-Ah! her pulfe hath ceafed to beat ! 



128 THE THUNDER STORM. 

Now in deep and dreadful gloom, 
Clouds on clouds portentous fpreadf 

Black as if the day of doom 

Hung o'tr Nature's fhrlnklng head j 

Lo ! the lightning breaks from high, 

— God is coming ! — God is nigh ! 

Hear ye not his chariot wheels, 
As the mighty thunder rolls ? 

Nature, ftartled Nature reels. 
From the centre to the poles: 

Tremble ! — Ocean, Earth, and Sky i 

Tremble ! — God is paffing by ! 

Barknefs, wild with horror, forms 
His myfterious hiding place ; 

Should He, from his ark of ftorms, 
Rend trie veil and fnew his face. 



THE THUNDER STORM. i 29 

At the judgment of his eye. 
All the Univevfe would die. 

Brightei'j broader lightnings flafii, 

Hail and rain tempeiluous fall ; 
Louder, deeper thunders crafii, 

Deiblation threatens all ; 
Struggling Nature gafps fcr breath, 
In the agony of death. 

God OF VsNGEANCF. I from above 
While thine awful boltc are hurl'd, 

O reraember Thou art Love ! 
Spare! — O fpare a guilty world I 

Stay Thy flaming v/rath awhile, 

See Thy bow of promife fmilc ! 

Welcome, in the eaflcrn cloud, 
MeiTenger of Mercy flill ! 



130 THE THUNDER STORM 

Now, ye \Yiiids ! proclaim 2.]ovd, 

*^ Peace on Earth, to Mm gccd will!'' 
Naturs ! God's repenting Child, 
See thy Parent reconciled ! 

Hark ! the Nightingale, afar, 
Sweetly finga the fun to reft, 

And awakes the evening liar 
In the rofv -tinted weft ; 

While the moon's enchanting eye 

Opens paradife on high ! 

Cool and tranquil is the night, 

jMature's fore afBidlions ceafe, . 

For the ftorm, that ii:.ent its might. 
Was a covenant of peace : 

Vengeance drops her harxr.lefs rod; 

-^Mercy is the POWEPv O? GOD 1 



ODE 

1^0 l^iiE VOLUNTEERS OF BRITAIN^ 

On the prospect of Invasion* 



\J FOR. the death of Thofe, 
Who for their Country die, 
Sink on her bofom to repofe, 
And triumph where they lie ! 

Mow beautiful in death 
The Warrior's corfe appears^ 
Embalm'd by fond Affection's breath> 
And bathed in Woman's tears ! 

Their lovelielt native earth 
JSnfhrines the fallen Brave; 
In the dear land that gave them birtl) 
They find ^eir tranquil grave* 



1:^2 ODS TO THB 

——But the Vvild waves ihall fweep 
Bk I tax In' I a' s foes away, 
And the blue mongers of the deep 
Be fui'feitcd with prey !— 

No !— they have 'fcaped the vrave?, 
'Scaped the fea-monflers' maws ; 
They come ! but iliall Gallic Sl^ 
Give English Free me:: Lrjrs? 

By ALTRro's Spirit^ No! 
—Ring, ring the loud alarms ; 
Ye drums awake, ye clarions blow. 
Ye Heralds fliout "to arruG !'' 

To arms cur Heroes Ey; 

And 1-ading on their lines, 

TLe BmiUH Ban:;eii In the fl..'. 



VOLUNTEER^ OF BRITAIN. 

The lowering battle forms 

It's terrible array ; 

Like claibing clouds in mountain-ilorms, 

That thunder on their way ; 

The ruiTiing armies meet : 
And while they pour their breath. 
The flrong Earth Ihudders at their feet. 
The day grows dim with death. 

Ghofts of the mighty dead ! 

Your Children's hearts infpire ; 
And while they on your allies tread. 
Rekindle all your fire. 

The Dead to life ^;^^tuni ; 

Our fathers' fpirita rife ! 

^lly Brethren ! in vouR Lreaflo Ihey bum, 

They fparkle in voua eyec^ 



13 4* ODE TO THE 

Now launch upon the foe 
The lightning of your rage; 
Strike, ftrike the' aflailing Giants low, 
The Titans of the age. 

They yield, — they break, — tliey fly ; 
The vidlory is won : 

Purfue ! they faint, — they fall, — they die; 

O Hay ! — -the work is done. 

Spirit of Vengeance 1 reft : 
Sweet Mercy ciies, " forbear P' 
She clafps the vanquilh'd to her breaft ; 
Thou wilt not pierce them there ? 

—"—Thus vanilh Britain's foes 
From her confuming eye 1 
But rich be the reward of Thofe 
Who conquerj-'-^Tliofe who die t 



VOLUNTEERS OF BRITAIN. 135 

O'erfliadowing laurels deck 

The living Hero's brows: 

But ioveiier wreaths entwine his neck, 

— His children and his spouse ! 

Exulting o'er his lot, 

The dangers he has braved ; 

He clafps the dear ones, hails the eot. 

Which his ov/n valour faved. 

Daughters of Albion ! weep; 

On this triumphant plain. 

Your fathers, hufbands, brethren flecp> 

For you and freedom flain* 

O gently clofe the eye 
That loved to look on you ; 
O feal the lip, whofe earlieft figh, 
Whofe lateft breath was tme : 



136 ODE TO THE VOLUNTEERS. 

With knots of fweeteft flowers 

Their winding fheet perfume ; 

And wafh their wounds with true-love ihovvers^ 

And drefs them for the tomb : 

For beautiful in death 
The Warrior's corfe appears, 
Embalm'd by fond Affection's breath, 
And bathed in V^oman^s tears. 

»~Give me the death of Thofc 
Who for their country die j 
And O be mine like their repofe 
When cold and lew they lie ! 

Their lovelieft mother-earth 
Enfhrines the fallen brave, 
In her fweet lap who gave them birth 
They find their tranquil gr.ivc* 



THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. 



IvETURNiNG fi'om their evening walk. 

On yonder ancient ftyle. 
In fvveet, romantic, tender talk. 

Two lovers paufed awhile;—* 

Edmund, the monarch of the daie^ 
All-confcious of his powers ; 

Ella, the lily of the vale. 

The rofe of Auburn's bowers! 

In airy Love's delightful bands 

He held her heart in vain ; 
The Nymph denied her willing hands 

To Hymen's awful chain. 

5, 



13S THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. 

« Ah ! why," faid he, « our blifs delayl 

** Mine Ella ! why fo cold ? 
*< Thofe who but love from day to day. 
From day to day grow old. 

^* The bounding arrow cleaves the fky, 
" Nor leaves a trace behmd ; 

<* And fingle lives like arrows fly, 
« — They vanilh thro^ the wind* 

« In WedlocVs fweet endearing lot 
<* Let us improve the fcene, 

« That fome may be, when we are notj 
<< To tell — ^that we have been.'^ 

« 'Tis now,'* replied the village BeHe^ 
*< Saint Mark^s myfterious eve j 

« And all that old traditions tell 
«' I tremblingly believe :-» 



THE Vigil of st. mark, \$^ 

*< How, when the midnight fignal'tolls, 

" Along the church -yard green, 
^ A mournful train of fentenced fouk 

•« In winding fheets are feen ! 

" The ghofts of all, whom Death fhall doom 

** Within the coming year, 
** In pale procefiion walk the gloojn, 

" Amid the fjilence drear 1 

-* If Edmund, bold in confcious might, 

" By love feverely tried, 
" Can brave the terrors of to-night, 

"Ella will be his bride .'^ 

She fpake, — and, like the nimble fawn^ 

From Edmund's prefence fied: 
He fought, acrofs the rural lawn, 

The dv/eUing of the dead ! 



140 THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. 

That filent, fokmn, fimple fpot. 
The mouldering realm of peace. 

Where human paflions ar^ forgot ! 
Where human follies ceafe ! 

The gliding moon, through heaven fcrene, 

Parfued her tranquil way, 
And Hied o'er all the fieeping fcene 

A foft no(5tumal day. 

With fwelling heart and eager feet, 
Young Edmund gain'dthe church, 

And chofe his folitary feat 
Within the dreadful porch. 

Thick, threatening clouds, aflembling foon, 
Their dragon-wings difplay'd ; 

Eclipfed the flow-retiring moon, 
And quench'd the flars in {hade. 



THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. Hi 

Amid the deep abyfs of gloom 

No ray of beauty fmiled. 
Save, gliftening o'er fome haunted tomb. 

The glow-worm's luftre wild. 

The village watch-dogs bay'd around, 

The long grafs whiftled drear, 
The lleeple trembled to the ground, 

Even EdiMund quaked with fear. 

AH on a fudden died the blaft, 

Dumb hon'or chill'd the air, 
While Nature feem'd to paufe aghaflj^ 

In uttermoil defpair. 

' — Twelve times the midnight herald toD'd 

As oft did Edmund flart ; 
For every ftroke fell dead and cold 

Upon his fainting heart-. 



14-2 THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK^ 

Then glaring through the ghaftly gloom. 
Along the church-yard green, 

The.deftin'd victims of the tomb 
In winding flieets were feen. 

In that pale moment Edmund ftood, 

Sick with fevere furpiife ; 
While creeping hoiTor drank his blgodj 

And fix'd his fiinty eyes. 

He fav>' the fecrets of the grave 1 
He faw the face of Death 1 

Xo pitying power appeared to fave — 
He gafp'd away his breath 1 

Yet flili the fcene his foul beguiled. 

And every fpedre caft 
A look, unutterably wild, 

On EdmunD; as they pafs'd* 



THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. 14-3 

All on the ground entranced he lay ; 

At length the vifion broke 1 
— ^When, lo ! — a kifs as cold as clay^ 

The flurabering Youth awoke. 

That moment, dreaming through a cloudy 

The fudden moon difplay'd, 
Robed in a melancholy fhroud. 

The image of a maid. 

Her duiky veil afide fhe threw. 

And fhew'd a face moft fair 5 
— Toclafp his Ella — Edmund flew. 

And dipt the empty air ! 

«< Ha! who art thou !** — His cheek grew pale | 

A well-known voice replied, 
"Ella, the lily of the vale ! 

*' Ella— thy defkin'd bride V[ 



144 THE VIGIL OF ST, MARK* 

To win his neck, her airy arms 
The pallid phantom fpread ; 

Recoiling from her blafted charms, 
The' affrighted lover fled. 

To f^iun the vifionary maid 
His fpeed outftriptthe wind 5 

But,— though unfeen to move, — the fliade 
Was evermore behind I 

So Death's unerring arrows glide, 

Yet feem fufpended ftill ; 
Kor paufe, nor fhrink, nor turn afide, 

But fmite, fubdue and kill. 

O'er many a mountain, moor and valcj 

On that tremendous night, 
The Ghoft of Ella, wild and pale? 

Purfued her Lover's flight. 



THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. 145 

Bat when the dawn began to gleam, 

Ere yet the morning fhone, 
She vanilh'd like a nightmare-dream, 

And Edmund Hood alone. 

Three days, bewilder'd and forlorn, 

He fl^ught his home in vain ; 
At length he haiFd the hoary thorn, 

That crown'd his native plain. 

*Twas evening :— all the air was balm^ 

The heavens ferenely clear ; 
"When the foft mudc of a pfalm 

Came penlive o'er his ear. 

Then funk his heart ; — a llrange furmifc 

Made all his blood run cold : 
He flew, — a funeral met his eyes ; 

He paufed,— a death-bell toll'd. 

T, 



lidr THE VtGiL OF ST. MARK, 

« 'Tis fhe ! His fhe !"— He burft away 5 

And bending o'er the fpot, 
Where all that once was Ella lay^ 

He all belide forgot ! 

A maniac now. In dumb defpair. 
With love-be wilder^ mien, 

He wanders, weeps and watches there- 
Among the hillocks green. 

And every Eve of pale St. MarKj, 

As village hinds relate, 
He walks with Ella in the dark, 

And reads the rolls of Fate ! 



HANNAH. 



At fo^^ (ixteen my roving heart 
Was pierced by Love*s delightful dart: 
Keen tranfport throb'd thro* every vein^ 
— I never felt fo fvveet a pain ! 

Where circling vv'oods embower'd the glade^ 
I met the dear romantic maid : 
I Hole her hand,— it fhrunk, — but no ! 
I would_ not let my captive go. 

With all the fervency of youth. 
While paflion told the tale of truth, 
I mark'd my Hannah's dov/ncaft eye^ 
^Twas kind, but beautifully fny. 



J^ot w^th a wanner, purer ray^ 
The Sun, cnamour'd, wooes young Mafi 
!Nor May, with fofter maiden grace, 
Turns from the fan her blufhing face. 

But, fwifter than the frighted dove,. 
Fled the gay mcraing of my love: 
Ah 1 that fo bright a morn, fo focn. 
Should vaniili in fo dark a noon ! 

The angel cf afEidion rofe, 
And in his grafp a thoufand woes x 
He pour'd his vial on my head, 
And all the heaven cf rapture fled. 

Yet, in the glory of my pride, 

I flood,— and all his wrath defied ; 

I flood, — though whirlwinds fnook my bram^ 

And lightabgs cleft my foul in twairu 



HANNAH. 140 

I fhun'd my nymph ;— and knew not why 
I durft not meet her gentle eye ; 
I lliun'd her, — for I could not bear 
To marry her to my defpair. 

Yet, fick at heart with hope delavM, 
Oft the dear image of that maid 
Glanced, like the rainbow, o'er my mind^ 
And promifed happinefs behind. 

The ftorm blew o'er, and in my breaft 
The halcyon peace rebuilt her neil ; 
The ftorm blew o'er, and clear and mild 
The fea of youth and pleafure fmiled. 

'Twas on the merry mom of May, 
To Hannah's cot I took my way 5 
My eager hopes were on the wing. 
Like fwallows fporting in the fpring* 



150 HANNAH. 

Then as I climb'd the mountains o'er, 
I lived my wooing days once more : 
And fancy fketch'd my married lot, 
My wife^ my children and my cot I 

I fa-.v the village fteeple rife,— 
My foul fprang, fparkling, in my eyes; 
The rural bells rang fweet and clear,— 
My fond heart liflen'd in mine ear. 

I reachM the hamlet : — all was gay ; 

I love a rufiic holiday ! 

I met a wedding,— flep'd afide; 

It pcxfs'd : — my Hannah was the bride.] 

•• There is a grief that cannot feel; 

It leaves a wound that will not heal; 

My heart grew cold,— it felt not then;; 

When iliall it ceafe to k6, again ? 



A FIELD FLOWER I 

%N FINDING ONE IN FULL BLOOM ON CKRIST?,i4S DAT 
1803. 

JL HER.E is a flower, a little flower. 
With filver creft and golden eye, 
That welcomes every changing hour. 
And weathers every iky. 

The prouder Beauties of the Add, 
In gay but quick fucceflion fnine. 
Race after race their honours yields 
They flourifh and decline. 

But this fmall flower, to Nature dear. 
While moons and flars their courfes rus. 
Wreathes the whole circle of the year, 
'Companion of the fun* 



152 A FIELD FLOWER^ 

It fmiles upon the lap of May, 
To fultry Auguft fpreads its charms. 
Lights paie October on his way, 
And twines December's aims. 

The purple heath, and golden broom, 
On moory mountains catch the gale, 
O'er lawns the lily llieds perfume. 
The violet in the vale. 

But this bold fioweret climbs the hill, 
Hides in the forefl, haunts the glen, 
Plays on the margin of the ril-I, 
Peeps round the fox's den. 

Within the garden's cultured round. 
It fnares the fvveet carnation's bed ; 
And blooms on confecrated ground 
Ib honour of the dead. 



A FIELD FLOWER, 153 

The lambkin crops its crimfon gem, 
The wild-bee murmurs on its breaft. 
The blue-fly bends its penfile ftem, 
Light o'er the Iky-lark's nelt. 

'Tis Flora's page: In every place; 

In every feafon, frefh and fair. 
It opens with perennial graces 
And blofToms every where. 

On wade and woodland, rock and plain^ 
Its humble buds unheeded rife; 
The Rofe has but a fummer-reign. 
The DAISY never dies* 



THE SNOIV'DROF. 

VV INTER ! retire. 

Thy reign is pad ; 

Hoary Sire I 

Yield the fceptre of thy fway^ 

Sound thy trumpet in the blaft. 

And call thy ftorms away ; 

Winter I retire ; 

Wherefore do thy wheels delay t 

Mount the chariot of thine ire. 

And quit the realms of day; 

On thy ftate 

Whirlwinds wait; 

And blood-lhot metsors lend thee lights 



THE SKOW-BROP. 155 

Hence to dreary arctic regions, 
Summon thy terrific legions ; 
Hence to caves of northern night 
Speed thy Right. 

From halcyon feas 

And purer fkies, 

O fouthem breeze ! 

Awake, arife : 

Breath of heaven ! benignly blow, 

Melt the fnow ; 

Breath of heaven ! unchain the floods, 

Warm the woods. 

And make the mountains flow. 

Aufpicious to the Mufe's prayer. 

The freshening gale 

Embalms the vale. 

And breathes enchantment thro' the air ; 



156 THE SNOW-DRCP*. 

On its wing 

Floats the Spring, 

With glowing eye, and golden hair: 

Dark before her Angel-form 

She drives the Demon of the ftorm, 

Like Gladnefs chafing Care. 

Winter^s gloomy night withdrawn, 
Lo ! the young romantic Hours 
Search the hill, the dale, the lawn. 
To behold the SNOW-DROP white 
Start to light, 

And fhine in Flora's dcfait bowers, 
Beneath the vernal dawn. 
The Morning Star of Flowers I 

O welcome to our Ifle, 
Thou MelTenger of Peace I 



THE SNOW-DROP* 15%; 

At whofe bewitching fmile 

The embattled tempefts ceafe : 

Emblem of Innocence and Truth ! 

Firllborn of Nature's womb, 

When ftrong in renovated youth,.. 

She burfts from Winter's tomb ; 

Thy Parent's eye hath fhed 

A precious dew-drop on thine head,^ 

Frail as a Mother's tear 

Upon her infant's face, ' 

When ardent hope to tender fear, 

And anxious love, gives place. 

But lo ! the dew-drop falls away, , 

The fun falutes thee with a ray„ 

Warm as a Mother's kifs 

Upon her Infant's cheek, 

When the heart bounds with blifs,. 

And joy that cannot fpeak ! 



15.^ THE SKOW-DROP* 

' When I meet thee by the wayi 

Like a pretty, fportive child. 

On the vi^Inter-wafted wild. 

With tliy darling breeze at play. 

Opening to the radiant Iky 

All the fweetnefs of thine eye ; 

—Or bright with funbeams, frefli with fhowcrs, 

O thou Fairy-Queen of flowers ! 

Watch thee o'er the plain advarxe 

At the head of Flora's dance ; 

Simple SNOW-DROP ! then in thee 

All thy fifter train I fee : 

Every brilliant bud that blows, 

Prom the blue-bell to the vokf 

All the beauties that appear 

On the bofom of the Year ; 

All that wreathe the locks of Spriag^ ^ 

Summer's ardent breath pcrfiime, , 



. THE SNOW*DROP. 15S[ 

Or on the lap of Autumn bloomy 

'—All to thee thek tribute biing. 

Exhale their incenfe at thy flirine, 

^— Their hues, their odours all are thine I 

For while thy humble form I view, 

The Mufe's keen prophetic fight 

Brings fair Futurity to light. 

And Fancy's magic makes the vifion true* 

'—There is a Winter in my foul. 

The Winter of defpair ; 

O when fhall Spring its rage controul I 

When {hall the SNOW-DROP bloflbm there ? 

Cold gleams of comfort fometimes dart 

A dawn of glory on my heart, 

But quickly pafs av>^ay : 

Thus Northern-lights the gloom adorflj 

And give the promife of a morn, 

That never tunis to day! 



150 THE SNOW-DRCP. 

»— ^But hark ! methinks I hear 
A fmall flill whifper in mine ear ; 
« Rafh Youth ! repent, 
** Affiidions from above5 
** Are Angels fent 
*' On embaflies of love. 
** A fiery Legion, at thy birth, 
" Of ehaftening Woes were given, 
^« To pluck thy flowers of Hope from earth, 
<* And plant them high 
" O'er yonder Iky, 
l^ Transform'd to ftars;-'and £x'd in heaveiu'^ 



THE OCEAN. 



WnrTTE>T AT SCARBOROUGH, IN TH2 SUMMER OF ISOc. 



All hail to the ruins,* the rocks and the fnores I 

Thou wide-rolling Ocean, all hail ! 

Now biiiiiant with fun^beamsj and dimpled witb 

oars, 
Now dark with the frefh-blowing gale, 
While foft o'er thy bofom the cloud-fiiadows failj 
And the filver-wing'd fea-fowl on high. 
Like meteors befpangle the Iky, 
Or dive in the gulph, or triumphantly ride. 
Like foam on the furges, the fwans of the tidco 
* BcarboTQ Cafiht 



162 THE OCEAN. 

From the tumult and fmoke of the city fet free^ 

With eager and awful delight, 

From the creft of the mountain I gaze upon thee ; 

I gaze, and am changed at the fight ; 

For mine eye is illumined, my Genius takes flight, 
My foul, like the fun, with a glance 
Embraces the boundlefs expanfe, 
And moves on thy w^aters, wherever they roll. 
From the day-darting zone to the night-brooding 
pole. 

My Spiiit defcends where the day-fpring isbcsnj 

Where the billows arc rubies on fire, 

And the breezes that rock the light cradle of morn 

Are fweet as the Phoenix's pyre : 

O regions of beauty, of love, and defire ! 

O gardens of Eden ! in vain 

Placed far on the fathomkfs main^ 



THE OCEAN, 163 

Where Nature with Innocerxe dwelt in her youth, 
When pure was her heart, and unbroken her truth. 

But now the fair rivers of Paradife wind 
Through countries and kingdoms overthrown ; 
Where the Giant of tyranny cruflies mankind, 
Where he reigns, — and wdll foon reign alone. 
For wide and more wide o'er the fun-beaming 

zone. 
He llretches his hundred-fold arms, 
Defpoiling, deftroying its charms ; 
Beneath his broad footftep the Ganges is dry, 
And the mountains recoil from the flalh of his eye. 

Thus the pellilent Uppas, the hydra of trees, 
Its boughs o'er the wildernefs fpreads. 
And with livid contagion polluting the breeze 
Its mildewing influence fheds 5 



I6h ^HE OCEAt?* 

The birds on the wing, and the flowers in their 

beds, 
Are flain by its venomous breath, 
That darkens the noon-day \sith death, 
And pale ghofts of Travellers wander around^ 
While their mouldering Ikeletons whiten the 

ground. 

Ah ! why hath Jehovah, in forming the worlds 

With the waters divided the land, 

His ramparts of rocks round the continent hurl'dj? 

And cradled the deep in his hand. 

If man may tranfgrefs his eternal command | 

And leap o'er the bounds of his birth 

To ravage the uttermoft earth, 

And violate nations and realms that fhould be 

Diftind as the billows, yet one a* the fea I 



THE ocean:. 16S 

There are, gloomy Ocean ! a brothcrlefs clan, 

Who traverfe thy banifhing waves, 

The poor difinherited outcafts of man, 

Whom Avarice coins into flaves ; 

From the homes of their kindred, their forefathers^ 

graves, 
Love, friendfhip, and conjugal blifs, 
They are dragg'd on the hoary abyfs ; 
The fliark hears their Ihrieks, and afcending to day,. 
Demands of the fpoiler his fhare of the prey. 

Then joy to the tempeft that whelms them be«- 

neath, 
And makes their dellrudtion its fport I 
But woe to the winds that propitioufly breathe, 
And waft them in fafety to port ! 
Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon re» 

fort: 



166 THE OCEAN* 

Where Europe exultingly drains 
Her cordials from Aftica's veins ; 
'Where the image of God is accounted as bafc. 
And the image of Csefar kt up in its place ! 

The hour is approaching, — a terrible hour ! 
And Vengeance is bending her bow ; 
Already the clouds of the hurricane lour, 
And the rock-rending whirlwinds blow ; 
Back rolls the huge Ocean, — Hell opens below 5 

The floods return headlong, they fweep 

The fiave-cultur'd lands to the deep ; 

In a moment entomb'd in the horrible void. 

By their Maker Himfelf in his anger deftroy'd. 

Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted ifleSj 
More lovely than clouds in the wefrj 
When the fun o'er the ocean defcending in foiile^ 
Sinks foftly and fweetly to reft ? 



THE OCEAN* 167 

— 'NO ! — Father of Mercy ! befiiend the opprefV) 

At the voice of thy gofpel of peace, 

May the forrows of Africa ceafe ; 

And the flave and his m after devoutly unite 

To walk in thy freedom, and dwell in thy light ! 

As homeward my weary-wing'd Fancy extends 

Her ftar-lighted courfe through the fkies. 

High aver the mighty Atlantic afcends. 

And turns upon Europe her eyes ; 

Ah me ! what new profped:s, new horrors ariib J 

I fee the war-tempefted flood 

All foaming, and panting with blood ; 

The panic-ftruck Ocean in agony roars, 

Rebounds from the battle, and flies to his fhorcs* 

* Alluding io ihe glorious flic cefi of the Ivf or avian Mtf" 
Jlonaries among the Negroes in the Wef Jndisi, 



158 THE OCEAN. 

For Britannia is wielding her trident to-day, 

Confuming her foes in her ire, 

And hurling her thunder with abfolute fway 

From her wave-ruling chariots of fire : 

— She triumphs ; — the winds and the waters con- 

fpire 
To fpread her invincible nam.e ; 
The univerfe rings with her fame ; 
— ^3ut the cries of the fatherlefs mix with her praife, 
And the tears of the widow are ihed on her bays I 

O Britain ! dear Britain ! the land of my biilh j 

O Ifle, moft enchantingly fair ! 

Thou Pearl of the Ocean ! Thou Gem of the 

Earth ! 
O my Mother ! my Mother ! beware ; 
For wealth is a phantom, and empire a liiare i 



THE OCEAN. l'')9 

O let not thy birth-right be fold 
For reprobate glory and gold : 
Thy foreign dominions like wild graftings ihopt. 
They weigh down thy trunk, — they will tear up 
thy root : — 

The root of thine OAK, O my Country ! that ftands 

Rock-planted, and flourifhing free ; 

Its branches are ftretch'd over far-diftant lands. 

And its fhadow eclipfes the fea ; 

The blood of our Anceftors nourifh'd the tree ; 

From their tombs, from their afhes it fprung; 

Its boughs with their trophies are hung ; 

Their fpirit dwells in it : — and hark ! for it Ipoke ; 

The voice of our Fathers afcends from their oak. 

*< Ye Britons ! who dwell where we conquer'd of old^ 
Who inherit oiu: battle-field graves 5 



370 THE OCEAN.. 

Though poor were your Fathers, — gigantic andbold, 
We were not, we would not be flaves ; 
But firm as our rocks, and as free as our waves. 
The fpears of the Romans we broke. 
We never ftoop'd under their yoke ; 
In the Ihipwreck of nations we flood up alone, 
—The world was great Cesar's— but Britam our 
own. 

^' For ages and ages, with barbarous foes. 

The Saxon, Norwegian and Gaul, 

We wreftled, were foil'd, were call down, but we 

rofe 
With new vigour, new life from each fall ; 
By air five cwere conquered c^WE CONOUER'D 

THEM ALL! 
— The cruel, the cannibal mind. 
We foften'dj fubdued and refined ; 



THE OCEAN. 171 

Bears, wolves, and fea-monfters they rulh'd from 

their den ; 
We taiight them, we tamed them, we tum'd them 

to men. 

*^Love led the wild hordesin hisflower-woven bands, 

The tendereft, the ftrongeft of chains 1 

Love married our hearts, he united our hands. 

And mingled the blood in our veins ; 

One race we became: — on the mountains and 

plains 
Where the wounds of our country were clofed, 
The Ark of Religion repofed. 
The unquenchable Altar of Liberty blazed, 
And the Temple of Juftice in Mercy was raifed. 

«< Ark, Altar and Temple we left with our breath 
To our children, a facred bequeft ! 



172 



THE OCEAN. 



O guard them, O keep them, in life and in death : 

So the fhades of your Fathers fhall reft. 

And your fplrits with ours be in paradife bleft ; 

—Let Ambition, the (in of the Brave, 

And Avarice, the foul of a Slave, 

No longer feduce your affedions to roam 

From Liberty, Jiiftice, Religion, AT HOME !'" 



THE COMMON LOT. 



Once in the flight of age^paft, 
There lived a Man : — and WHO was He ? 
• — Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be caftj 
That Man refembled Thee- 

Unknown the region of his birth. 
The land in which he died unknown % 
His name hath perifh'd from the earti^ 
This truth furvives alone :—- 

That joy and grief, and hope and fear^ 
Alternate triumph'd in his bread ; 
His blifs and woe,--a fmile, a tear \ 
— Oblivion hides the reft. 



l74f THE COMMON LOT. 

The bounding pulfe, the languid linb. 
The changing fpirits' rife and fall ; 
We know that thefe were felt by hinij 
For thefe are felt by all-. 

He faffer'd, — but his pangs are o'er; 
Enjoy'd,— but his delights are fled ; 
Had friends, — bis friends are now no more 5 
And foes, — his foes are dead. 

He loved, — ^but whom he loved the grave 
Hath loft in its unconfcious womb : 
O fhe was fail* ! — but nought could fave 
Her beauty from the tomb. 

The rolling fe^fons, day and night, 
Sun, moon and ftars, the earth and main, 
Erewhile liis portion, life and light, 
To Lim exlil in vain. 



THE COMMON LOT» 1^-3 

He faw whatever thou haft feen, 
Encounter'd all that troubles thee ; 
He was— whatever thou haft been j 
He is — what thou fiialt be. 

The clouds and funbeams, o'er his eye, 
That once their fliades and glory threWj^ 
Have left in yonder filent iky, 
No veftige where they flew. 

The annals of the human race. 

Their ruins, fmce the world began^ 

Of HIM afford no other trace 

Than this,— THERE LIVED A MAN! 

T H £ END. 



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